


An Insidious Infection

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Angst, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a word where sentinels are known but guides are rarely recognised, let alone understood, Detective Jim Ellison finds the real thing.  Is it coincidence, karma or something entirely different?<br/>Jim and Blair must work together to come to terms with their unexpected new relationship, and also convince friends and colleagues that they should be regarded as the rule, not the exception to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Insidious Infection

**Author's Note:**

> Another AU bonding fic, but with a somewhat different twist. See what you think!
> 
> K x

**_An Insidious Infection                       by Katef               January 2015_ **

**Part 1: A Curious Affliction:**

**Blair:**

With a low groan of distress, Blair peered blearily at his reflection in his cracked bathroom mirror, grimacing in disgust at the sight that met his eyes.  Holding himself upright with arms that shook visibly from the strain, he clenched his fingers around the edges of the chipped washbasin and considered the gaunt apparition that stared back at him.  The curls escaping from the loose ponytail at his nape were lank and lifeless, framing a face too pale beneath at least two days’ worth of stubble, and normally wide and expressive blue eyes were sunken and ringed by shadows like bruises.  Lips thinned from discomfort and dismay, the young man considered his options, not liking any of the scenarios that popped immediately into his sluggish brain.  In all his young life he could never recall feeling so ill, even including a nasty bout of fever picked up during one of his anthropological expeditions, and the feeling of utter helplessness weighed heavily upon a body that already felt too weak to cope.

And it did no good at all roundly chastising himself for his growing self-pity.  For once in his life he really could do with some moral and physical support, and that was so inconceivable that he didn’t bother to dwell on it.  A wry and sickly grin briefly pulled at his chapped lips as he automatically discarded the notion of trying to contact his peripatetic Mom Naomi.  Even if she could be traced to whatever far-flung location she was presently visiting, she would do no more than offer him comforting platitudes and promises to burn sage to purify his aura from a distance.  Sighing despondently, Blair turned away from the mirror, shuffling back to his sagging twin bed as quickly as possible to bury himself once more under the piles of blankets and clothing heaped precariously on top of it, too cold now to detour to his pitifully basic kitchenette to brew the cup of herbal tea he had promised himself earlier.

Burrowing deeper into the pile of bedding, he concentrated on trying to control the trembling of his cold limbs while absently attempting to pinpoint just when he had been stricken with this flu/virus/disease or whatever it was which had hit him so hard and so fast.

Only three days ago Blair had been his usual bouncy self.  Cheerful, inquisitive and highly intelligent, his open and outgoing personality endeared him to a far greater proportion of his wide circle of friends and acquaintances than he would ever have believed.  His students loved him for his enthusiasm for his chosen subject of anthropology, and his warm-hearted nature meant that he would always willingly go that extra mile to help those who needed it, whether in the field of academia or life in general.  Nevertheless, a chronic lack of self-confidence, normally well-camouflaged beneath his ready smiles and acting ability, meant that Blair was essentially alone, and at times like these that solitude morphed into actual loneliness.

Because despite being hopelessly enamoured of the spoken word, Blair never shared personal details with anyone, having learned the hard way that giving too much of your heart to someone else left you vulnerable to hurt and disappointment.  He had spent much of his young life traipsing around the world in the footsteps of his itinerant neo-hippy single Mom, and although grateful for the opportunity to experience and absorb diverse cultures and countries – which no doubt fostered his love of anthropology – he had witnessed first-hand the string of heart-broken and angry putative suitors she left in her wake after ‘detaching with love’.

For despite her vivacity and elfin beauty Naomi was ultimately shallow and easily distracted; a social butterfly for whom sex was of no more significance than a handshake, and love was something physical to be shared generously but with no strings attached.  Potentially deeper or more romantic dalliances never impinged on her heart any more than she was prepared to accept despite her frequently-expressed mission in life to seek out love and spiritual enlightenment wherever she could find it.

And unfortunately her son had also been a frequent victim of that self-centred lifestyle, often unintentionally neglected and left behind to manage as best he could in the charge of friends and relatives who often resented the imposition.

Yes, Blair was certain that she loved him after her own fashion as much as she was able, but it was never enough.  She was incapable of putting herself out or even attempting to adopt a more regular ‘mommy persona’, and for that reason Blair knew for a fact that an appeal to her for a little maternal TLC was simply unrealistic.

And the sad fact was that he also believed he had no other options either.  Not willing to hurt or be hurt, he deliberately distanced himself from friends who would know him better, and for the first time in years he felt genuinely down and depressed.  He was sure that his only course of action – or inaction – was to try and keep warm and ride out the worst of whatever ailment he had contracted, praying that he wouldn’t have to resort to either calling in sick or even worse, summon medical help as his meagre insurance wouldn’t stretch to anything more than the most basic treatment.  At least he had the weekend during which to pull up the drawbridge, so to speak, and endure as best he could without becoming a burden to anyone else.

Snuggling more deeply under the covers, he acknowledged that at least he was feeling much warmer now, so half-heartedly continued to try and remember just when he had begun to feel ill even though his normally agile brain felt muffled and stuffy; dulled with uncharacteristic fatigue and also by the hunger which gnawed persistently at his belly.  However, nausea and lassitude dissuaded him from doing anything to remedy the situation for the time being, so he simply allowed his mind to wander, hazily recalling the previous Friday morning.

**Two days previously.  Rainier University:**

Blair jogged up the steps to Hargrove Hall, the building which housed the Anthropology Department, exchanging cheerful greetings with passing students and colleagues as he went.  He was well aware that he was cutting it fine if he was to make his first tutorial of the day, but his tardiness was once again for a good reason even if his employers wouldn’t see it that way.  Old Mrs Abernathy in the next apartment block had managed to get her trash bin stuck in the doorway, so Blair had naturally gone to give her a helping hand.  Her friendly smile and words of gratitude were thanks enough as he coaxed his ancient Corvair to life and negotiated the route to Rainier.

With five minutes to spare, he breezed into his tiny, cluttered cubby hole of an office and grinned widely at the three students already seated within, who all returned his welcome with warm grins of their own.

“Hey, teach!  We were about to send out a search party.  That old junker giving you grief again?”  Matt Briggs spoke up, catching the eyes of his two fellow students, and winking cheekily as the girls giggled in response.

“I’ll have you know that that ‘junker’ is a classic!” Blair snipped back with a mock glare.  “But no, as it happens, I was just lending a hand to a neighbour is all.  So sorry if I’ve kept you waiting, guys.  Anyhow, how’re those papers coming along?  Just let me get myself settled and we can run through them.  You wanna go first, Matt?” and the tutorial continued with an enthusiastic and energetic discussion, as was generally the case in all Blair’s classes.

A couple of hours later the class wound down, having run overtime as usual, and a grinning Blair ushered his students out of his office.  “Good stuff, guys.  I can’t see any of you having problems with mid-terms, and I think those papers are looking more than promising.  Just keep on the way you’re doing, and I’ll see you all same time next week, OK?”

With cheerful farewells, his students wandered off, chatting animatedly amongst themselves, and Blair retreated into his office to savour a well-earned cup of coffee.  He felt energised, as was often the case after such an interactive and positive discussion, so hummed to himself as he set up his treasured second-hand coffee machine to perk.

The rest of the morning passed quickly what with marking and grading some Anthro 101 tests and a little more work on a paper Blair was preparing for submission to an anthropological journal, then a growling tummy warned him that he ought to go in search of lunch.  Grabbing his coat he headed out, intending to treat himself to a decent meal for once.  With no other source of income but his meagre TA’s salary and whatever he could obtain through grants or the occasional part-time job, he was more or less permanently cash-strapped, but as today was payday, he decided that he could afford one of the delicious deli sandwiches from his favourite shop.  Humming to himself, he walked the short distance down the block to his destination, happily handing over his hard-earned cash for a tuna on wheat and large mocha latte.   With a smile and friendly word to the counter staff, he went on his way, thinking that he might take advantage of the rare Fall sunshine to eat in one of the local parks for a change.

Turning in the opposite direction, he wandered down the street when a commotion further down attracted his attention.  Ever the anthropologist, he felt compelled to investigate as people in all shapes and forms fascinated him, as did their actions and interactions.  And if there was anything he could do to help, he would do it without a second thought.  Speeding up a little he headed towards the increasingly loud noises, which he soon identified as both angry and also either frightened or distressed interchanges.  Frowning now, he weaved his way between the other pedestrians, more and more of whom were becoming aware of the situation and reacting according to their natures either by making themselves scarce or closing in for a closer view.

Suddenly, a loud shout of, “Freeze!  Cascade PD!” was followed immediately by the appearance of a fugitive in the form of a scruffy young man, sprinting down the street towards Blair and pushing bystanders and otherwise innocent pedestrians roughly aside as he tried to make his panicked escape.  Behind him charged an impressive figure, who Blair assumed was a plain-clothes cop, and who was catching up rapidly at every stride.  Belatedly realising the pair was heading straight for him; Blair hurriedly attempted to move aside to avoid a collision.  He would have made it if the big cop hadn’t tackled the suspect to the ground right beside him, knocking him over in the process.

Sitting on his ass on the wet sidewalk Blair watched in bemusement as the big cop swiftly subdued and handcuffed the suspect, only then sparing a speculative glance at the audience surrounding him.

Checking out the onlookers, he made a rapid inspection before meeting Blair’s shocked eyes, where his ice-blue gaze lingered for a moment.

“You OK, sir?” he asked brusquely, holding out a hand to help Blair to his feet.  “Didn’t hurt you, did he?” he continued, his distracted air leaving Blair in no doubt that the enquiry was merely standard and completely impersonal.  Releasing Blair’s hand as soon as the young man was safely upright, he barely paused long enough to hear the somewhat hesitant reply.

“Um, no.  I guess not.  Unless you count my lunch, that is,” and Blair gazed forlornly at his spilt coffee and crushed sandwich.

“OK.  As long as that’s all…” and the big man turned his attention back to the patrol unit that had pulled up alongside, mind once again plainly focussed on the suspect and with getting him safely into the vehicle.

He therefore missed completely the pained and irritated glance Blair sent his way before striding back the way he had come, obviously having already dismissed the young man from his thoughts.

Sighing dejectedly, Blair picked up his ruined lunch and dumped it into the nearest trashcan, muttering sub-vocal imprecations about jack-booted, fascist pigs and bemoaning his own inquisitiveness which had drawn him to the scene anyway.

He couldn’t afford to buy himself a replacement lunch, so he headed disconsolately back to his office, intending to make do with a half-full packet of potato chips and a bottle of water instead.  But then again, he thought that maybe he wouldn’t bother anyway, because all of a sudden he didn’t really feel all that good….

**Jim, Monday morning, Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit:**

Seated at his desk in the Major Crimes Unit bullpen, Detective Jim Ellison scowled ferociously at his computer screen, attacking the innocent keyboard with a savage ‘hunt and peck’ typing style as he laboriously filled in a report form.  Although accustomed to their colleague’s volatile temper and acerbic tongue, today Jim’s attitude was way more cantankerous than usual, so that virtually everyone else in the vicinity studiously avoided breaching the almost tangible barrier surrounding the irate man, although that didn’t prevent them from shooting the occasional surreptitious worried or irritated glance in his direction.  The only exception was Inspector Megan Connor, who decided that she had had enough of the ‘tude, and straightened in her seat, preparing to approach Ellison and invade his personal space whether he liked it or not.

Megan was a tall, attractive brunette; able and self-confident and not one to tolerate either fools or curmudgeonly colleagues gladly.  An Inspector in the Australian Police Force of New South Wales, she was participating in an officer exchange programme between her department and Cascade PD, and had been placed with Major Crimes for the last twelve months.  Readily accepted and generally popular because of her professional capability and cheerful personality – even if her colleagues sometimes joked that they needed a translator to understand her on occasion – she was also the only person prepared to cut Ellison some slack.   Because not only did she respect and admire the man’s detective skills and impressive arrest and conviction record, but also, of all his fellow workmates, she had the best comprehension of what drove him.  Because her younger brother Davy was stricken by the same ‘affliction’.  He too was recognised as being a Sentinel.

\--------------------------------

Back in the nineteenth century, the British explorer, Sir Richard Burton – (not to be confused with the twentieth century actor of the same name) – developed a fascination for particularly gifted individuals he observed in many indigenous South American peoples.  These individuals through a natural genetic variation possessed greatly enhanced senses which were employed for the good of their tribes.  Acting as guardians, watchmen and so much more, they were revered and jealously protected by their communities, who benefitted from having their own organic weather predictor as well as being able to take advantage of their sentinel’s superior tracking skills during the hunt. And they also appreciated their early warning system in the case of approaching enemies.  Although Burton’s contemporaries had little time for or interest in his subsequent monograph, ‘The Sentinels of Paraguay’, over the succeeding decades the phenomenon described therein was revisited when individuals apparently continued to manifest under the right circumstances.  Scientists eventually discovered that the gene survived in these individuals despite the erroneous belief that it had died out due to lack of need in so-called modern society; rather it lay dormant until required if indeed it ever was.  But when such individuals did manifest, they were almost invariably greeted with open arms as valued members of society, usually gravitating naturally to services such as the military, Police and Fire Departments, Search and Rescue and medicine.

There was, however, a down-side to possessing such gifts.  If a sentinel were to concentrate too hard on a single sense, he or she ran the risk of becoming lost in it to the extent that they could actually enter a fugue state, usually called a ‘zone-out’, during which they literally became unaware of their surroundings.  Naturally enough, if such an event occurred during a fire-fight or under similar perilous circumstances, the sentinel and those around them would be vulnerable to attack or injury.  Because of this, each sentinel needed to work with a partner, sometimes referred to as a ‘guide’, who watched their backs and helped ground them so that they were able to control their gifts more easily in trying situations and concentrate on the job in hand.

Unfortunately, Burton had had little interest in the role of the companion in his original study other than referring to the individuals concerned as ‘helpmeets’ or partners.  He certainly didn’t attach any particular importance or significance to the role other than as a necessary convenience for the sentinel, apparently assuming that pretty much anyone willing enough could be a suitable candidate to fulfil the position.  He had either failed to recognise – or perhaps had chosen to ignore – the fact that true Guides were born, not made, just as were sentinels.  And unfortunately that indifference tended to persist even up to the present day, as did the accompanying general ignorance regarding the effects and consequences of full physical and spiritual bonding between compatible individuals.  And because fully ‘on-line’ sentinels were rare enough anyway, the likelihood of them actually encountering their one true guide was miniscule, even if they knew what to look for.  Consequently they were accustomed to make use of whoever was willing to work with them, neither knowing nor expecting anything different.  It was hardly surprising therefore that few if any modern citizens or scientists had ever had the privilege of observing the awe-inspiring spectacle of a true bonded pair working seamlessly as a team to the best of their combined abilities.

However, because of Davy, Megan had witnessed first-hand how hard it can be for a sentinel to be at the mercy of spiking senses and zones if not partnered with someone who at least recognised the symptoms and sympathised with their plight.  She had therefore made it her business to discover as much as possible about sentinels and guides using the small amount of material available on the subject in the hope that she might eventually identify a proper guide for Davy.

\----------------------------------

Unaware of his colleague’s interest or intentions, Jim was wrestling with his own demons as he grappled with his uncooperative computer.  Having come ‘on-line’ after a solitary stakeout two years previously, Jim had had reason to both embrace and curse his new gifts.  An ex-military man and dedicated cop, he was well aware of the advantages his enhanced senses gave him during investigations and take-downs, especially where he could assist Forensic personnel in the aftermath of criminal activity.  On the other hand, as a confirmed loner, he resented being forced to work with a partner when he knew he would be using said senses, only grudgingly accepting the necessity as and when it occurred.  True, there were a couple of his colleagues who he could tolerate working with if needs be, but others simply put his back up, aggravating his already short temper.  And it just so happened that Megan Connor was one of the latter individuals.

There was also the problem of the side-effects of hypersensitivity, and the day-to-day discomfort he had to endure simply to exist.  He was careful to use proven sentinel-friendly products wherever available, and only wore clothing produced from natural fibres.  He also avoided overly-spiced foods; something which he bitterly resented.  But in general he was able to manage and control his environment with effort and determination, although the cost was high in terms of temper and sheer bloody-minded endurance.

He was aware that other sentinels benefitted from having a sympathetic life partner or spouse, but following a disastrous eighteen-month farce of a marriage with Lieutenant Carolyn Plummer, the former head of Cascade PD’s Forensics Division, he chose to remain single and unencumbered.  And if he ever paused to consider the possibility of finding a real guide, if there truly was such a person, he dismissed it immediately as totally unrealistic wishful thinking.

All in all, even if he was not exactly content with his lot, at least so far he had been able to put up with it.  Until, that was, this past weekend.  Because suddenly everything had gone pear-shaped, and he was almost at his wit’s end as to how to remedy the situation.  Or understand what had caused it in the first place.

On Friday afternoon he had been writing up his report regarding the arrest of the would-be liquor store raider he had interrupted fortuitously near Rainier University when he gradually became aware that his already impressive hearing range seemed to have increased unexpectedly.  Suddenly realising that he was overhearing a whispered conversation between two amorous and most likely, uniformed officers way down in the building’s basement Evidence Store, he grinned wryly before deliberately pulling back, only to find that it took a surprising amount of extra effort to do so.  Nevertheless, he dismissed it as a one-off incident, and thought nothing more of it until the following morning, when his usual shower suddenly felt as if it was about to take his skin off.  Howling in fury and pain, he forcibly dialled down his sense of touch, cursing in anger and dismay at yet another apparent anomaly.  As if he didn’t have enough to cope with under normal circumstances – normal for a sentinel, that was. 

He had planned on a leisurely – and solitary - hike along some of Cascade National Forest’s trails, in eager anticipation of enjoying the fresh air and relative silence away from the city’s overwhelming sounds and smells.  Deciding to continue with his excursion anyway, he was both shocked and angered at what he discovered _en route_.  As he walked, he found that in fact _all_ his senses were vastly enhanced.  His range was far greater than he could ever have believed, but the consequence was that he required a huge increase in effort to try and control them.  Coming closer to zoning more times than he had ever experienced over the whole of the past two years, by the time he returned to his ancient jeep, he was nursing the headache from hell, and still the damned senses fought back.

By Monday morning, he was holding onto his sanity by the skin of his teeth, knowing full well that it would take only a slight push to send him over the edge into the void.  It was at this point when Megan chose to approach him, little realising that her target was as near to feral as he had ever been.

But having said that, it was unlikely that she would have been deterred anyhow, plucky and determined lady as she was.  Considering her skin to be rhino-thick, she was unmoved by Jim’s almost sub-vocal snarling as she breached his personal comfort zone and addressed him forthrightly but with obvious sympathy.

“Hey, Jimbo.  Got to say you look like hell, mate.  Is it so bad this morning?”  Automatically assuming that he knew what she was driving at, she didn’t wait for an answer before continuing blithely, “Look, Jimbo.  I know you like to keep yourself to yourself, and I know you won’t want to hear any advice coming from me…” and she grinned wryly into his furious ice-blue gaze.   “Having said that, I’ve got some information you might be interested in.  Information about guides.  And don’t even bother to growl at me, Sentinel.  I know what you need, and I think this could help you.  So get over yourself and listen, OK?”

Despite himself, Jim found his interest piqued, so he nodded briskly, tacitly inviting her to continue.

Grin much wider and friendlier now, Megan hitched a hip on the corner of his desk and addressed him, keeping her voice down now to deter overly-nosy eavesdroppers since she knew that sentinel hearing would easily catch every word.

“Look, Jim, I know you don’t think much of me, and you really don’t want to work with me, but the fact remains that I understand where you’re coming from, mate.  Have I ever told you about my little brother Davy?”  Tilting her head sideways, she contemplated Jim’s frown as his gaze turned inward for a few seconds, plainly considering her words.  Finally, his eyes met hers again as he responded gruffly, “Yeah, you did mention him.  When you first arrived.  He’s a sentinel also, right?”

“Yeah, Jimbo, he is.  And I’ve seen how he suffers just like you do.  Which is why I’ve tried to learn everything I can so I can help him.  Because he and I both realise that the best way forward – the _only_ real way forward is to find him a guide.  A true guide.  Not just some willing stand-in.  They _do_ exist, Jim, whatever popular opinion would have you believe.  Just because no-one’s ever bothered to study them officially until now on their own merit doesn’t mean they aren’t out there, I’m sure of it.

“And I think I may have come across someone who can actually help.”  Seeing the growing disbelief on Jim’s face she hurried on before she lost his attention and interest.

“I was doing some research on the web, and I came across a paper written by a local guy.  It’s recent, and is his Master’s thesis on tribal sentinels, and I have to say it was mind-boggling.  He may not have touched on the role of the guide in great depth, but the topic was covered way more than in most current literature.  At least he recognises the importance of such a figure in backing up the sentinel and providing a comfortable environment for him.  According to this guy, just having a sympathetic partner simply doesn’t cut it like a real guide would when it comes to being able to use your senses to their full extent.

“Think about it, Jimbo.  This guy may have some pointers on how to locate a suitable guide!  I want to meet him as soon as I can to see if he can give me some advice on what to look out for when I go back to Oz.  You never know, mate.  He might even have some local contacts or information which could help you!  It can’t harm to just look him up, huh?” and she fixed him with her most persuasive gaze.

And darned if he didn’t give the idea some consideration.

“OK, say if I did decide to look him up.  Who is this sentinel expert?” and he congratulated himself sardonically for managing to successfully quell the automatic cynical sneer trying to colour his tone.

Smiling brilliantly now, Megan replied eagerly.  “His name’s Sandburg.  Blair Sandburg.  And he’s a Teaching Assistant in Rainier University’s Anthropology Department.”

\----------------------------

**Same morning, Rainier University:**

Blair pulled into a space in Hargrove Hall’s parking lot, but it was some little time before he could dredge up the energy required to climb out of the vehicle.  Allowing his head to loll back against the headrest, he was uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t really fit to drive, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him to let the university – or more importantly, his students - down if he could possibly avoid it.  When he had dragged himself out of bed this morning, he had still felt dreadful, but marginally better than he had over the weekend, so he had forced himself to shower and shave, albeit very shakily, and had managed to get a cup of tea and half a toasted bagel down him to try and quell the hunger gnawing at his belly.  He was ruefully aware that although he desperately needed the sustenance, it was yet to be seen as to whether it would stay in his still-queasy stomach long enough to do him some good.  Several minutes later, he determinedly chastised himself for the pity-party, and gathered his feeble strength to get out of his car and make his way up the steps to Hargrove Hall, his immediate goal simply to reach the sanctuary of his tiny office.

And he nearly didn’t get there.

As he climbed the steps, passing the few people around at this early hour, he reeled under the unexpected onslaught of waves of pleasure, anger, fatigue and puzzlement amongst other feelings which he was certain weren’t his own.  But if not, where were the nearly overpowering emotions coming from?  Was he going mad, his mental and physical reactions racing out of his control?  Did he have some sort of tumour?  Or was it part and parcel of the weird sickness he had been nursing in miserable solitude all weekend?  Clutching a now pounding head, he staggered blindly up the remaining steps, totally unaware of the quizzical looks and worried queries following his hurried retreat, almost falling through the main doors.  Once inside, he paused for a moment in the blessedly empty hallway, panting heavily, his relief almost palpable as his own sense of self returned for a moment, enough at least to enable him to continue his stumbling journey to his office.

However, his relief was short-lived, as the disorientating emotional turmoil reasserted itself as soon as he encountered more people on the way.  If he hadn’t been so physically debilitated, perhaps he would have been able to turn his agile brain to analysing the strange phenomenon, but for the present all he could do was simply try to endure the incipient nausea and dreadful headache the uncontrollable feelings left in their wake.  His new goal now was to get his lecture over with, and then crawl back home to his tiny apartment in the hope that whatever was affecting him could be confronted and fought off in isolation through meditation and bed rest.  If sure of nothing else, he was glumly convinced by now that this was indeed another disturbing symptom of the strange affliction already ailing him.

With his unsteady steps speeding up as he drew closer to his office; his progress was abruptly halted as he almost cannoned into the solid and motherly figure of Janet, the Anthropology Department’s senior secretary.  Alerted to Blair’s arrival and uncharacteristic behaviour by a worried colleague’s internal call, she had quickly left her own office to see if she could help her favourite young TA.  Steadying the smaller man with a firm but gentle grip on his upper arms, she gazed worriedly down into Blair’s pale and sweaty face, unaware that her genuine concern and sympathy drove into his cringing mind like an ice pick to his skull, and was horrified by the ensuing moan of pain.

“Good grief, child!  What on earth is the matter?  You shouldn’t be here, Blair.  You should be home in bed.”

Drawing on every bit of his remaining willpower, Blair did his best not to worry his friend, instinctively trying to alleviate her concerns on his behalf.  Summoning up a sickly caricature of a smile, he murmured, “Sorry, Janet.  It’s just a migraine is all.  Came on all of a sudden.  I promise I’ll go home once I get through with my 10 o’clock lecture, OK?”

Although plainly unconvinced by his obfuscation, nevertheless Janet responded with some reluctance, “Well, if you say so, dear, but let me get you some max strength Tylenol first.  I know you and your aversion to chemicals and medication, but I think you need this.”  The older woman gave him an admonishing glance as she turned to hurry back to her desk to retrieve the items, returning quickly to hand him two tablets and a bottle of water.

“Get those down you, dear, no arguing!” she said firmly, and for once Blair was in no condition to debate the issue.  With a strained smile, he took the tablets in a slightly shaking hand, popping them into his mouth and washing them down gratefully with a long swig from the bottle.

“Thanks, Janet.  I promise I won’t stay any longer that I have to, but you know how strongly Dr Rothschild feels about absenteeism.  And it’s so close to mid-terms I don’t want to let my students down--”

“Well, as to that, my dear,” Janet interjected, “You are probably the most dedicated teacher here, and no one but a fool would accuse you of letting your students down without good reason.  And as far as I’m concerned, this _is_ good reason.  Now, you keep that bottle, dear, and I expect you to get yourself home as soon as that lecture’s done.  I’ll drive you there myself if I have to.  Go and sit down for a while and let those pills work, OK?” and she gently urged Blair towards his office, acknowledging his small grin of appreciation as he let himself in.

Once inside, Blair closed the door behind him and more or less staggered to his desk where he sank down in his chair, lowering his head tiredly onto his crossed forearms.  At that moment he truly didn’t know whether he had the strength remaining to get through his lecture, but hoped that the pain pills would take effect quickly and efficiently enough to do the trick.  As he waited, he concentrated on his breathing, relaxing infinitesimally as the familiar techniques, combined with the powerful medication, finally began to offer some relief.

By 9.45 he was feeling somewhat better; enough at least to gather his notes together and leave his office, mentally girding up his loins to face the challenge of the upcoming lecture.  However, despite his premature optimism, by the time he reached the lecture theatre, he was once again feeling desperately anxious and shaky.  The turbulent waves of emotion had begun to batter at his brain again the moment he passed other folks in the corridors, even if he didn’t physically touch them, and he was increasingly aware that the effects of the painkillers were wearing off only too quickly.

Nevertheless, his students deserved some explanation at least if he felt forced to cut the lesson short, so he took a deep, fortifying breath before pushing open the theatre doors and stepping inside.  His determined effort was short-lived however, as he never even reached the lectern before being stricken by the sheer force of the students’ combined emotions all hitting him at once; closing over his head like a tidal wave.  With a strangled cry of agony, notes dropping unheeded from nerveless fingers, Blair swung around, hands clutching his head in a hopeless but instinctive effort to contain and counteract the agony within.  He was barely aware of the sea of worried faces before him that began to blur and rotate ever more swiftly before disappearing altogether as he sank to the floor, gratefully embracing complete and merciful oblivion. 

**Monday lunchtime, Jim:**

Jim pulled up into a vacant space in Hargrove Hall’s parking lot, coincidentally next to Blair’s vehicle.  Casting a somewhat derogatory glance over the ancient Corvair as he climbed out and locked his own jeep, Jim turned to face the impressive main entrance, once again wondering if he was doing the right thing, or if he was completely wasting his time.  After his rather one-sided exchange with Megan, who he had the decency to realise had only had his well-being in mind; he had spent a few minutes seriously contemplating her suggestions before returning to his paperwork.  However, he had more or less discounted the idea of seeking out this somewhat eccentric-sounding academic when he had been summoned peremptorily to his Captain’s office.

Now Captain Simon Banks was an imposing figure of a man, who prided himself in running a tight ship, and who also wasn’t disposed to tolerate fools – or bad-tempered sentinels – gladly.  He was well aware that his star detective was growing more and more antsy and difficult to work with, and much as he appreciated Ellison’s track record, the bad feeling in the bullpen was affecting morale to the extent that even his sweet-natured, efficient and much-prized secretary, Rhonda had had cause to complain about the big detective’s rudeness.  Enough was enough, and Banks was rapidly approaching the point where he was about to tell the man to either shape up or ship out.

Lips thinning, Jim replayed the meeting with his captain, reluctantly acknowledging that the other man had had reason to take the tone that he did.

\---------------------------------------

When Jim had entered the office, face reflecting barely-controlled impatience and ill-grace, his swift sensory scan of his superior officer told him immediately that the man was royally pissed off, and that he was in deep shit.  Standing at parade rest before Simon’s desk, Jim had wiped all expression from his face, and assumed the cool, blank-faced regard that had served him so well during his years in the military.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Jim’s rhetorical question was curt and flat.

“You bet I do, Ellison!  Now stop giving me that po-faced look and sit yourself down.  I’m not about to give myself neck-ache looking up at your ugly mug.”

Once Jim was seated, Simon had lit in straight away with a recitation of the long list of complaints involving his detective’s recent behaviour.  The contents ranged through those made by his fellow officers, admin and clerical staff, forensic lab techs, and even Susan the doughnut girl.  Not allowing Jim the chance to interject a word in his own defence, he had proceeded with growing irritation until he reached the final straw.  “Shit, man!  Even Rhonda was upset this morning after you snapped at her!  All she was doing was collecting those files from your desk because I asked her to!  Where the hell do you get off yelling at her like that?  It can’t go on, man.  I’m well aware that you have unusual problems to deal with from time to time because of your sentinel shit, but this morning you’re way worse.  So far out of line that you can’t even see the fucking line!Why is that?  You’d better give me a good explanation, man, or else you’re on notice with immediate effect.”

Genuinely rattled by Simon’s unexpected threat, Jim had stared incredulously at his boss, momentarily speechless.  Yeah, he knew he had a tendency to rub people up the wrong way, but it was usually for good reason.  Well, OK.  Good reason as far as he was concerned anyway since it normally involved some aspect of his senses.  Having said that, he also realised Banks deserved some sort of explanation as to why he felt so much worse today, and that wasn’t going to be easy, because he didn’t know the reason himself.  Nevertheless, he was going to have to try if he wasn’t to be riding a desk for the foreseeable future, or perhaps even looking for alternative employment, so he met Simon’s quizzical gaze with a somewhat wry one of his own and began.

When Jim finally wound up his description of everything he had experienced over the past weekend, he sat back, surprisingly emotionally drained and uneasily reluctant to hear his superior’s response.

Simon had leaned back in his chair, his expression speculative as he studied the man before him, his logical and incisive mind mulling over Ellison’s disturbing information.

“So, Jim.  You’re telling me that for some reason or other your senses have gotten an extra boost or something?  And this apparently happened sometime on Friday as far as you can make out?  Believe it or not, I can understand how that would make you even more bad-tempered than usual.  I know it takes a lot out of you to control your senses without a guide or partner or whatever.  And I guess that’s why you’re not renowned for sweetness and light.   But you say you have no idea what caused it?”

At Jim’s rueful but mute shake of the head, he continued, “OK, man.  But for your own good, and the good of my department, we’re going to have to come up with something workable.

“Let’s look at this in more detail.  Tell me exactly what you did throughout the day, and let’s see if we can’t figure out a plausible explanation between us….”

\------------------------------------------

The upshot of his conversation with Simon was the main reason why Jim was here now, marching purposefully up the steps to Hargrove Hall.  When he and Simon had analysed Jim’s movements on Friday, they had come to the somewhat reluctant conclusion that the only event Jim could reasonably pinpoint as coming even close to being the trigger for his sensory boost was when he had arrested the fleeing thief near Rainier.  Or more precisely, when he had accidentally knocked that young man over with his flying tackle.  Whether they liked it or not, the incident seemed significant enough to investigate further; and that needed a more academic – or perhaps esoteric – mind-set.  And that was what Jim hoped to find in the Anthropology Department, in the form of Megan’s so-called sentinel expert, Blair Sandburg.

Entering Hargrove Hall, Jim turned to follow the signs to the Anthropology Department, finally arriving at the reception area and outer office.  The pleasant-looking middle aged secretary who looked up at his entrance him seemed somewhat upset, although she greeted him politely enough.  Jim introduced himself, but was taken aback when, upon asking for Blair Sandburg, the lady looked distinctly tearful as she replied.  “I’m sorry, Detective Ellison, but Blair’s not here.  He was taken ill and collapsed during his morning lecture.  He was taken to Cascade General Hospital, and I haven’t heard yet how he is.  We’re all so worried.  He’s such a sweet boy…” and she fished around in her desk drawer for a tissue to dab at the tears that leaked from her mournful eyes.  Distinctly uncomfortable, Jim’s response was rather stilted.  Glancing at the name plate on the secretary’s desk, he murmured gruffly, “Um, I’m sorry to hear that, um, Janet.  I was hoping to discuss something with him.  I’ll, um, come back some other time, when he’s better…” and he backed off hurriedly, unwilling to prolong the awkward conversation with the emotional lady any further.

Striding back down the corridor, he mentally cursed the unfortunate Sandburg for his inconvenient and inconsiderate illness, frowning darkly at his bad luck as he made his way back to his jeep.  However, rather than return to the PD, something deep within urged him to turn instead in the direction of Cascade Hospital, an unidentifiable compulsion pulling at him, demanding that he check on Sandburg’s well-being anyhow. 

And his inner sentinel had absolutely no intention of ignoring the impulse even if Jim the prosaic detective might have baulked at it.

\-----------------------------------------

**Cascade General Hospital:**

Pulling into the nearest available hospital parking spot, Jim flipped down the jeep’s visor to display his official PD badge, trusting that some overly officious parking attendant wouldn’t ignore it and give him a ticket anyway.  Striding towards the ER, he emerged through the automatic sliding doors into an unusually chaotic scene even for an emergency department, and frowned as he looked about him, trying to find someone who could provide him with some information about the unfortunate Sandburg.  Judging by the focussed and bustling medical staff, EMTs and porters arriving with yet more laden gurneys, he surmised that there had been some major incident, most likely a multiple vehicle accident on the freeway the report of which he had missed due to being otherwise occupied at Rainier.  Although naturally sympathetic to the situation, he was grimly aware that it could work in his favour, so deliberately assuming his most imposing and business-like persona; he located the most promising target and homed in on his unsuspecting prey.  Grasping the arm of a harried young doctor as he rushed past, he quickly flashed his detective’s shield in the man’s flustered and irritated face, keeping his tone urgent but placatory as he spoke.

“Detective Jim Ellison, Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit.  Look, Doctor, I can see that this isn’t a good time, but I need to locate a potential witness who was brought in earlier this morning.  It’s vital that I see him as soon as possible, but I don’t want to hold you up.  Can you tell me where I can locate him?  His name’s Sandburg and he’s a teacher at the university.  He’d have been brought in as an emergency after collapsing in class…”

Curbing his impatience with commendable effort, the young doctor replied, responding positively to Jim’s persuasive attitude.  

“Yes, Detective.  As it happens, I attended Mr Sandburg myself.  He was scheduled for a CAT scan, then admitted for observation as he hadn’t regained consciousness.  Whether he has or not since, I can’t tell you, and neither can I give you any more details.  Patient confidentiality and all that.  But if you go up to Ward Three, you may be able to visit him.  Ask at the nurses’ station.

“Now, I must get on…” and he turned and hurried away, mind already focussed on the next casualty.

Satisfied with his progress so far, Jim strode over to the elevators and pressed the button for the third floor, already planning on how to continue his bluff, fully intending to get in to see Sandburg even if under slightly dubious – OK, false – pretences.

Arriving at Ward Three, Jim approached the nurses’ station, his friendly smile disguising the fact that his head was killing him, thanks to the added pressure the frantic ER activity had placed on his already over-stressed senses.  Again employing his most persuasive techniques, he introduced himself to the nurse on duty, and reiterated his request to see Sandburg, laying on the urgency of the bogus situation as thickly as possible.  And once again the nurse capitulated to his charm, and pointed to a side ward just off the main corridor.

“Mr Sandburg is in there, Detective Ellison.  But he still hasn’t regained consciousness, so he won’t be able to help you yet.  Dr Clifton will be doing his rounds shortly, so perhaps he can tell you more, but I wouldn’t hold out too much hope.  But if you want to look in on him anyway, there’s a chair in there, and his is the only bed occupied.”

Thanking her graciously, Jim approached the side ward, suddenly realising that his headache was subsiding, and his unruly senses seemed to be settling somewhat.  However, apart from feeling greatly relieved, he didn’t give the situation any more thought, concentrating instead on finally seeing Megan’s ‘expert’ in the flesh.

And was completely taken aback when he pushed through the door and spotted the pale young man lying motionless in the bed nearest the window.  The very same young man he had knocked down accidentally last Friday during the arrest of the liquor store raider near Rainier.  The very same young man Jim had helped to his feet and then immediately dismissed from his mind.

For a moment, Jim had the horrifying thought that perhaps he had unwittingly caused Sandburg’s malady, because for certain, the comatose teacher and his unintended victim were one and the same.  But in the next instant, he told himself not to be so melodramatic.  Sandburg hadn’t even bumped his head when he went down, so surely his collapse had nothing to do with their unconventional previous meeting.  And it occurred to him, somewhat ruefully to be sure, that at least he could legitimately claim that Sandburg was indeed a witness to an arrest, although it was highly unlikely that his testimony would ever be required in a court of law, and certainly didn’t warrant the importance or urgency Jim had implied.  Nevertheless, nodding decisively, he approached the bed, pulling out the hard visitor’s chair and seating himself near to the sleeping man, suddenly compelled to study him as closely as possible.

Because there was definitely something about him.  Something that called to the sentinel at the most fundamental level.  Now if only the obstinate man would wake up, perhaps they could begin to come to some mutually beneficial understanding.

Over the next few minutes, Jim studied the young man intently, oblivious to the fact that the sentinel within was actually initiating an instinctive primary imprinting.  His senses, now acting perfectly, reached eagerly for whatever information they could glean from the lax body laid out before them.  Jim was peripherally aware that, despite the overlying smell of sweat, pain and medication, Sandburg’s personal scent was quite acceptable.  Enticing even?  But Jim pushed that thought away immediately.  He was here to pump the teacher for information, not jump his bones, however attractive he was.

And where did that thought come from?  Frowning in irritation, Jim discounted that idea also.  The kid wasn’t his type after all.  Sure, Jim wasn’t a virgin where male sex was concerned, but on the rare occasion during his spell in the military when he and a like-minded comrade scratched a mutual itch with no strings attached, his companion would be of similar type to himself; buff, built and pragmatic.

And he had abstained from such dalliances since joining the PD simply to avoid unnecessary complications in an already complex life.

Yet Jim couldn’t deny that the young man was attractive in his own way.  His abundant dark auburn curls had been pulled back out of the way in an untidy ponytail, and the still and pallid face was beard-stubbled and bore the marks of pain and fatigue even in repose.  However, the underlying bone structure was stunning.  Sandburg’s brow was smooth and broad, his cheekbones high and well defined and his nose neat.  The mouth was lush-lipped and sensuous above a strong chin, and Jim’s perfect sense memory recalled that the eyes beneath the closed lids were dark blue and fringed with obscenely long lashes.  Almost pretty rather than conventionally handsome, yet Sandburg wasn’t at all feminine.  Certainly the still form beneath the bedcovers wasn’t tall, but neither was it fragile-seeming.  Instead, Jim concluded that Sandburg was compact and sturdily built, in perfect proportion in fact, if rather too thin at present.  And Jim suddenly surprised himself by wondering briefly what the kid would look like naked?

Clamping down hurriedly on that thought, he concentrated instead on Sandburg’s physiological functions, because he realised that the young man was finally showing signs of waking up.

Curbing his impatience only with great difficulty, Jim leaned forward in his seat, willing the young man’s eyes to open and register his presence.  He was rewarded a few minutes later by a quiet moan, then the fluttering lids opened to reveal the blue eyes Jim now remembered so well.  Blair took a little longer to awaken fully, licking dry lips with the tip of a pink tongue, then he turned his head with an almost sub-vocal moan, and peered myopically at the man by his bedside.

“Where am I?  Wh..what’s going on, man?  Are you a doctor?  How long have I been here?”  His voice was a little rough, undoubtedly due to a dry throat, but its tone and cadence was music to the sentinel’s ears.

“Calm down, Mr Sandburg,” Jim replied.  “You’re in Cascade General Hospital, and as far as I know, you’ve been here a few hours.  A secretary at Rainier told me you collapsed during your morning lecture and they couldn’t wake you, so you were brought in here for observation.  Do you remember what happened?”  He knew he had no right to question the man, but felt compelled to do so anyway, realising that he was deeply curious to discover everything he could about Sandburg.  He was suddenly overtaken by an unexpected urge to protect this young stranger, enough even to want to bundle him up and take him back to his own territory.  And he hadn’t a clue where such disturbing notions came from.  He was abruptly distracted from that worrying train of thought by Sandburg’s next words.

“I know you, don’t I?  I mean, I’ve seen you before.  Oh man!  You’re a cop aren’t you?  You ran into me when you arrested that guy near Rainier.  I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?   I mean, I had nothing to do with it, officer.  I’ve never seen him before…” and Jim couldn’t help but react to the now thundering heart beat and anxious expression in the blue gaze locked with his own.

“Hey, no, Mr Sandburg!  It’s nothing like that I assure you.  Yes, I am a cop.  Detective Jim Ellison, Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit,” and he pulled out his badge for Blair’s inspection.  “But I’m not here about the arrest.  It’s actually on a more personal matter--”

But he was interrupted at that point when the door opened to reveal a middle-aged and bespectacled doctor, whose eyes narrowed in irritation as he took in the scene before him.

“What do you think you’re doing, Detective?  Nurse Stannaway told me you had managed to inveigle your way in here – which most certainly shouldn’t have happened without my permission – but I demand to know why you are questioning my patient.  A patient I should have been informed had regained consciousness!  Explain yourself!”

It was actually Blair who responded first, although he had absolutely no idea why he should have felt compelled to defend his unexpected visitor, and a cop at that.  It just seemed the right thing to do at the time, and he had more pressing things on his mind.

“Oh, hey, it’s OK, Doctor.  I don’t mind him being here.  I’m just more concerned about what’s wrong with me.  Or not.  I mean, I feel fine now.  Headache’s gone, although I feel a bit shaky.  Can I go?”

“That would be most inadvisable, Mr Sandburg,” the doctor responded in an admonishing tone.  “You have been deeply unconscious for several hours for no apparent reason.  Your scan suggests that there is nothing untoward going on with your brain, no sign of any physical problems, but I should like to keep you here overnight at least for observation.”

“Oh no, man, I can’t.  Look, Doctor..er..Clifton,” Blair continued in his most persuasive tone after glancing at the Doctor’s name tag, “Like I said, I feel fine now, and truly, I can’t afford to stay.  My insurance won’t cover me, and you’ve already told me there’s nothing to see in my scan…” and he treated the other man to his most appealing puppy dog gaze.

Pursing his lips in annoyance, Dr Clifton regarded his patient for a few moments with a jaundiced eye.  Finally he replied, with marked ill-grace, “Well, I can’t compel you to stay, young man, but I have to say that if you leave it’ll be against my explicit advice.  But if you insist, I’ll get you the paperwork to sign yourself out AMA once I’ve checked you over. 

“And you can wait outside while I examine my patient!” he snapped, treating Jim to a disapproving glare.  But Jim was only too happy to comply, since he fully intended to wait for Sandburg anyway, so he nodded agreeably and settled himself in the waiting area outside until the doctor was done.

\-------------------------------------

A short while later both men were seated in Jim’s jeep on their way back to Hargrove Hall, each wrapped up in their own thoughts.  Although he had no idea why the big cop should offer him a lift Blair was only too grateful to accept, even though he was still none the wiser as to why Ellison had sought him out anyway.  There was undoubtedly some ulterior motive behind the detective’s generous offer, but for now Blair was more concerned with picking up his car and setting Janet’s mind at rest, so decided that explanations could wait for a while.

As for Jim, he was increasingly puzzled at his own behaviour where Blair Sandburg was concerned.  Although glad that he wouldn’t have to delay their meeting thanks to Sandburg’s apparent rapid recovery, he had surprised himself with his spontaneous offer of a ride, certain that he had never before experienced such a need to care for a complete stranger.  Indeed, the feeling was more akin to the love he had once felt towards his own younger brother, long since estranged, but recalled once in a while with wistful nostalgia before being squelched firmly under Jim’s determinedly stoic demeanour.  He was absolutely sure he had never entertained such notions where his ex-wife was concerned.

Arriving once again in Hargrove Hall’s parking lot, Blair finally turned to face Jim fully.  “Thanks again for the ride, man.  That was over and above, and I really appreciate it.  I wouldn’t have enjoyed crossing town by bus, for sure.  But I can take it from here.  I’ll just go and let Janet know I’m OK, then I’ll grab my car keys and backpack and I’ll get on home.

“And I promise I’ll get some rest, OK?” he added with a wry grin at Jim’s automatic disapproving scowl.  “I want to be well enough to get back to work tomorrow after all!”

“Well, as to that, I guess you’ll have to wait and see.  But I’d still like to discuss something with you if you’re up to it.  Won’t take long, and has nothing to do with any open case, I promise.  It’s something more…um… _arcane_ – and I think right up your street.”  Jim knew immediately that the other man’s interest was piqued so he pushed his advantage.

“Look, how about I wait for you and follow you home?  Then you can tell me to leave whenever you like.  And I’ll grab some sandwiches from that deli down the road.  It’s the least I can do, and you can’t tell me you’re not hungry.”  

And Blair had to grin and blush when his tummy chose that moment to growl loudly, denying him the opportunity to demur.

Eyes sparkling with rueful amusement, Blair found himself accepting the big man’s offer.  Yes, he certainly had some misgivings about prolonging contact with the rather intimidating cop, but having already benefitted from the man’s generosity, it would be churlish to throw his request back in his face.  And what harm could come of a short chat?  It occurred to him that he was perhaps behaving somewhat naively under the circumstances, but somehow he didn’t think the man meant him any harm.  At least, not in the physical sense.   Summoning a grin, he replied, “OK, Detective Ellison, I guess you’re on.  And if you’re serious about the sandwiches, I’d love a tuna on wheat.  So, I’ll just go and lock up my office and have a word with Janet, and see you back here in a few.  That’s my car over there,” and he pointed out the same beat-up Corvair Jim had parked next to previously.  But before Jim could make any adverse comment, he was out of the jeep and jogging up the steps to the main entrance, if not exactly bouncing, at least apparently no longer in pain.

Watching his departure with thinned lips, Jim turned the jeep around and drove down to the deli, preferring to take as little time as possible over his errand and feeling surprisingly antsy about letting the young teacher out of his sight for longer than necessary.

\----------------------------------

Less than half an hour later, both men met up again at the foot of the steps; Jim clutching a bag containing the promised food and Blair holding his car keys in one hand and an ancient backpack by the straps in the other.  They both seemed to experience some degree of awkwardness as they greeted one another, but Blair offered a shy smile anyway as he indicated his Corvair.  “I’ll get going then, Detective.  It’s not far, just off Education and Cleaver.  Um, see you in a few,” and his grin turned a little self-conscious as he made his way across the parking lot and unlocked his car.  As Jim followed suit, he pulled away and drove carefully out of the campus’ main entrance, aware that he shouldn’t really be driving, and determined not to endanger either himself or more importantly, anyone else by getting distracted.

Although concentrating hard on the road ahead, and on fighting off the occasional slightly dizzy waves shaking his frame - which were due to fatigue and hunger now rather than the debilitating headache which was still blessedly absent – Blair couldn’t help but ponder on another couple of stray thoughts that occurred to him.  Firstly, he had been shaken by Janet’s emotional reaction on seeing him back at Hargrove Hall.  The normally affable but calm and sensible woman had burst into tears and pulled him into a warm embrace, alternately fussing over him and scolding him for giving her such a fright.  Now Blair had never considered himself to be particularly attractive or lovable, and had absolutely no concept of the affection he engendered in others, so he actually felt rather guilty at worrying the secretary so much.

As he glanced in his rear-view mirror to make sure Ellison’s jeep was still following him, he also considered his feelings towards the big cop even after so short an acquaintance.  The man was certainly handsome, and had the body of a Greek god, but he was also scarily forbidding, and Blair knew for sure he’d hate to get on the cop’s bad side.  On the other hand, there was something about him – something that called to Blair on some intrinsic level – although he was equally certain that the man could have no interest in him as a person.  Nevertheless, he quickly dismissed the pang of disappointment he felt at that thought, and schooled himself instead to concentrate on helping the guy – if help him he could – with whatever problem he wanted to discuss. 

As for Jim, he was also doing some pondering of his own as he followed Sandburg’s junker of a car.  He had already accepted that he felt some sort of connection with the little guy, but he wasn’t particularly happy with the notion.  His cop’s suspicious mind was working overtime, and the conclusions he had reached thus far weren’t particularly reassuring.  He didn’t believe in coincidence, so it occurred to him that it was just a little too convenient that Sandburg should have been in exactly the right place at the right time for them to literally run into each other.  He began to wonder, in fact, whether the TA and Megan Connor were already acquainted and that they had cooked up the plot between them to ensure that Jim meet up with this sentinel ‘expert’.  And if that were the case, even if it was done with the best intentions, Jim didn’t like to be played like a dupe. 

On the other hand, he was prepared to turn the situation to his advantage, and use the guy’s expertise anyway.  And if he should find out that his suspicions were correct, then Sandburg would wish that he’d never messed with Jim, and the same went for Inspector Megan Connor.

By the time Jim had parked beside Blair’s car in the weedy and cracked concrete forecourt of the TA’s run-down apartment block, Jim’s scowl had darkened considerably and his temper was on a tight leash.  He had had long practice in maintaining an appearance of outward cool, however, and was determined to use his own expertise in interrogation techniques and sensory scanning to ascertain Sandburg’s veracity.  Therefore when he climbed out of his jeep his expression was inscrutable once more, and he returned Blair’s slightly nervous if welcoming grin with a small smile of his own before following the other man into the building.

As they climbed up several flights of dingy stairs to Blair’s third floor apartment, Jim could tell that the young man was anxious, and trying to hide the fact under inconsequential chatter.  _Probably having second thoughts about inviting me in_ Jim mused, smirking internally as he continued to scan Sandburg’s vital signs.  But to be fair, there could be all sorts of reasons for Sandburg’s discomfort, and guilt didn’t have to be one of them.

Unlocking and pushing open a cheap and peeling front door, Blair stepped back to allow Jim to enter, before quickly slipping inside and hurrying to clear the only two battered dining chairs of piles of papers and books, his cheeks pink with embarrassment as he tried to monitor Ellison’s reactions as the cop studied the scruffy room.  He knew how it must appear to his visitor, but it was all he could afford, so Ellison would have to put up with it.

In truth, the apartment was tiny – a cheap and shabby efficiency type unit.  Basically it consisted of one big room which had been divided off in one corner to form a tiny shower room and toilet, and an equally tiny kitchen space in the other.  The rest of the room was the dining/sitting/bedroom, with a small twin bed (un-made) along one wall.  The walls were painted in fading beige tones, spotted in places with patches of damp and mildew, and Blair didn’t have to be a sentinel to read the barely-disguised disdain on Ellison’s patrician features.  Every flat surface seemed to be covered in more papers, files and various artefacts and knickknacks, and books were piled high against the walls on makeshift shelves constructed from planks and bricks.  As Blair cleared the tiny folding table and grabbed a couple of mismatched plates for the sandwiches, Jim struggled to muster a reasonably polite comment.

“So, how long have you lived here, Mr Sandburg?  Um, I guess it’s convenient for the university.…”

“Oh, yeah.  It is.  And it’s cheap.  I found it last year after I got back from my last expedition, you know?  I mean, I needed somewhere in a hurry, and I got lucky.  I was looking at renting a disused warehouse down by the docks – lots more space, but more expensive – but one of my fellow TAs was moving in with his girlfriend so he let me have first chance at this….”

Indicating that Jim take a seat, Blair pulled out two beers from his small, table top fridge and offered one to his visitor, who took it gratefully as Blair unpacked the sandwiches and put them on the plates.  Finding that he was famished, Blair fell on the delicious tuna concoction Jim had bought for him, and didn’t come up for air until his plate was clean.

Looking up to see Jim’s faintly bemused expression, he blushed again as he said, “Oh, man, that was great.  I didn’t realise how hungry I was.  Can’t remember when I had my last meal; tell the truth, so I really appreciate it, Detective.

“So, how can I help you, man?  After a feast like that, I’m all yours!”  Then, realising how that must sound to the now smirking Jim, his blush deepened as his embarrassment grew.

Taking pity on the younger man, and charmed despite himself, Jim responded affably enough.  “No harm, no foul, Chief.  Anyhow, what I wanted to discuss with you was the topic of your Master’s thesis.  Or rather, present day sentinels, to be exact.  I understand that you’re considered to be something of an expert, and I need your help….”

Frowning a little now, Blair’s reply was thoughtful as he studied the other man more carefully.  “Um, well, I don’t know about being an expert, Detective.  I mean, yes, my thesis was about tribal sentinels, and I would dearly love to do my doctoral dissertation on modern sentinels, but that subject’s been fairly well covered by others, and I’d need to find a new angle for it to be of any interest to my dissertation committee.  But why your interest, Detective?  Are _you_ a sentinel?” and as soon as he uttered the words, he knew it to be the truth.

Jim’s gaze was appraising as he nodded slowly.  It was now or never, so he took a moment to compose his response.  “Yes, Mr Sandburg, I am.  And I was told about you by a colleague, Megan Connor.  You’ve met her, I believe?” His tone was deceptively casual as he carefully scanned Sandburg’s reactions to his query for any indication of duplicity.

And came up empty as Blair answered with indubitable honesty, “No, Detective, I’ve never met anyone of that name.  I wonder how she knew about me?  I mean, it’s not an everyday topic by any means.  Unless you are a sentinel, of course,” and he chuckled a little uncomfortably.

“Must have misunderstood, then,” Jim replied nonchalantly.  “But there is something you can help me with, which isn’t covered by other sentinel studies.  I need to know as much as you can tell me about guides.  Real guides, not just temporary working partners.  Connor said that you had covered the topic in much more depth.”

Completely taken aback, Blair took a moment to respond.  “Um, well, yeah, I guess I did.  I mean, I was fascinated watching native pairs working, you know?  And I came to the conclusion that there’s much more to guides than previously believed.  I believe they are as special as sentinels, and I tried really hard to figure out how the pairs matched up, and how they interacted.  They seemed to be so seamless, so much more capable and focussed than the few so-called modern pairings I’ve observed.  But in the end I was advised to tone down that aspect of my paper because it was unacceptable to contemporary thinking, so I did as I was told.  And since that had been my intended approach for my dissertation; you know, from the guides’ perspective; I’m pretty much stymied now.  I need to choose a new topic, and so far I can’t think of anything I want to do,” and he sighed despondently as he met Jim’s thoughtful gaze.

“Well, if it’s any comfort to you, Mr Sandburg, I think you may well be on the right track.  Got to say I’ve never had much luck with partners.  Even the ones who understand about sentinel behaviour can’t really help do much more than offer basic grounding.  And I sure as hell don’t know any other sentinels who can honestly say they’re using their senses to their full extent.  So, I’m thinking that it takes a special person to guide each one of us, and that person must be compatible on all fronts.

“What do you say to that?”

To say that Blair was gobsmacked would have been a gross understatement as he absorbed Ellison’s words.  Gods!  It was everything he believed, and some, and came straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.  So why the hell _did_ so-called modern thinking summarily discount such ideas?  Was it so hard to believe that guides had a genetic advantage just as did sentinels?  He could literally feel his excitement and enthusiasm grow as his eyes sparkled with new-found animation.  Bouncing out of his seat, he went to one of his precarious bookcases and pulled out an ancient-looking tome.  Moving quickly back to squat down beside Jim’s chair, he presented it with a flourish.  It was his much-prized copy of Burton’s own monograph, ‘The Sentinels of Paraguay,’ and Jim took it with due reverence.

“This is the first, and probably the best study ever written about sentinels.  But even this doesn’t give much information about guides.  I would love to fill in the blanks, so to speak, but have no data to work from.  But gods, if only I could…” and he tailed off suddenly as he deflated again, his short-lived burst of energy dispersing as quickly as it had arisen.  It was hopeless.  No more than a pipe-dream.  Where the hell would he ever find suitable subjects?  Unless, of course, Detective Ellison was to find his true guide…?

But at that point his mind shied abruptly away from the unexpectedly disturbing thoughts, and he looked up to meet the other man’s intense and speculative gaze.  Suddenly uncomfortable, he offered a nervous half-smile as he stood and backed away to retake his own seat, wary now in the face of Jim’s steady appraisal. 

“Um, so what exactly do you want from me, Detective?  How can I help you?”

Ever since Jim had satisfied himself that Sandburg had been innocent of any machinations as regards their meeting, he had come to the conclusion that it was time to cut to the chase and get serious.  From everything he’d seen and learned so far about the young man and his field of study, he’d become convinced that he was on the right track and it was time to call Sandburg on it.  To find out whether his instincts were correct.

“Well, Mr Sandburg – can I call you Blair?” and at Blair’s somewhat distracted nod he continued.  “Thanks, Blair.  And I’m Jim.  Anyway, I’d like to ask you how you felt after our accidental ‘coming together’ on Friday.”  At Blair’s puzzled frown he hurried on before the other man could respond.

“See, for me it was the strangest thing.  As the day went on I found that my senses became sharper – way more acute than I’d ever experienced – but also much harder to control.  By this morning, I was in real pain, so much so that my boss told me to go do something about it.  Which is when I decided to follow up on Megan’s suggestion and look you up.  And found that you and the man I knocked over were one and the same.

“Now, I don’t know about you, but that seems a little bizarre, don’t you think?  So, how about you?”

Blair was definitely worried now, but intrigued also, at least intellectually speaking.  In the face of Jim’s candid request, he felt compelled to answer honestly, at least, up to a point.

“Er, well, I don’t really know.  I mean, I started with a migraine that afternoon, but I’ve had them before, so that’s nothing new.  And I left as early as I could so I could come home and sleep it off like I usually do.”  His eyes took on a faraway look as he recounted his experiences, and Jim leaned forward expectantly as he continued.

“But it didn’t go away.  And it got worse.  My head felt stuffed up and muzzy, and I couldn’t eat or even move much without feeling nauseous.  I thought it was some sort of flu virus, so I kept to myself and tried to ride it out.  Anyway, I was a bit better by this morning, so I thought I’d better go to work.  Can’t let my students down just because of a headache, you know?   But when I arrived on campus, I seemed to pick up on emotions.  Emotions from the people I passed, not my own.  It hurt, man, so much.  And by the time I got to my lecture, it was totally overpowering.  I’ve never felt so much pain in my life.  I thought I’d had a stroke and was dying…” and his voice faded at the remembered fear.  However, he shook himself out of his funk and met Jim’s assessing look.  “I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in hospital and you were sitting by my bed. 

“And I’ve felt fine ever since….”  And this time there was a definite flash of real alarm in the worried blue eyes that locked on Jim’s face.

“Well, Blair, I have to admit that whereas before I might have laughed in your face, I actually do believe you.  Because my senses have been behaving themselves perfectly in your company.  So, what do you think that means?  Are you my guide?” and his expression became almost predatory as he pinned the young man with piercing ice-blue eyes.

And Blair freaked.

Pushing back in his seat so hard that it nearly toppled over backwards, Blair raised his hands in a warding gesture as he shook his head in vehement denial, his round-eyed stare making him look like a deer in the headlights.  Jim’s sensitive nose was assaulted by the sudden stench of what he could only define as pure terror which soured the other man’s otherwise pleasant and seductive scent.

“No!  Nononononono!  No way, man!  You can’t be serious!  Do you even _know_ what you’re saying?” and his galloping heart rate and panting breaths actually made Jim wonder if he was about to have a genuine panic attack.  Scowling fiercely in response to the dramatic reaction, he growled, “Why don’t you enlighten me then, Sandburg, seeing as it’s got you so worked up.  Is it such a stretch of the imagination?”

“Oh man, you don’t understand!” Blair nearly whined as he held his hands out almost in supplication now.  “See, when I was studying the aboriginal pairings, the one thing that was very obvious was that they were _together,_ man.  I mean, in _all_ ways.  They were closer than most married couples, Jim.  Whether they were the same sex or not.  Even if it were true, and I was a compatible guide for you, it’s not going to happen, man.  I have a life, and so do you.  And I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to give up my academic dreams yet.  I’m sorry, Jim.  I’ll help you find another guide if that’s what you want, but it’s not going to be me.”  His expression pleaded for understanding as he gazed appealingly at the angry man sitting opposite, and he suddenly felt truly afraid.

Jim was deeply affronted by Sandburg’s hysterical rejection, and his immediate thought was purely a knee-jerk reaction.  _Who the hell does he think he is?  And who needs a neo-hippie wuss of an academic twerp anyway?  I can get along without him._

But the sentinel within had no such scruples.  He wanted simply to grab the guide, however reluctant, and drag him back to his territory to be claimed and protected whether the guide liked it or not.  Snarling in animalistic fury as he glared at his prey, for a moment the primal sentinel had Blair actually in fear for his life before the reasonable man came to the fore once again, but only after a fearsome internal battle.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jim glowered down at the smaller man in his most intimidating fashion; jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together in frustration.

“Fine, have it your way, Sandburg.  I won’t trouble you again, so you can stop looking like a potential rape victim!”

And before Blair could utter a word in his own defence, he whirled around and stormed out of the room, slamming the rickety door so hard it almost came off its hinges.

Sinking back down onto his chair Blair huffed out a shaky breath and ran his hands through his curls as he tried to regain some sort of equilibrium.  _Well, that went well…NOT!_

\--------------------------------------------------

**Part 2: A Tentative Diagnosis, Prognosis Uncertain:**

**Following day, MCU bullpen:**

Jim sat hunched in front of his computer screen, sweat beading his forehead, eyes squinted and jaw clenched as he fought a losing battle to control spiking senses.  He realised that he shouldn’t have come in, but had hoped that concentrating on his job might have off-set his worsening condition a little, but it had turned out to be a forlorn hope.  If he did but know it, the many glances sent in his direction by his colleagues were almost universally sympathetic rather than irritated, and the bullpen personnel in general seemed to have made a conscious effort to keep the noise down.  However, there was nothing they could do about the normal telephone traffic, and the clattering of keyboards sent tremors through Jim’s overly taut muscles.  All in all, he was in a sorry state and he knew it.  Any minute now Simon would order him out of the office, and it seemed to Jim that his only recourse now was to take himself off to the hospital, where sympathetic doctors could do nothing for him but to administer strong sedatives in an attempt to dull the worst of his symptoms.

And if that failed, then Jim was grimly aware that he would probably go the way of other unfortunates he had read about who never regained control of their out-of-whack senses and sank into a zone so deep that they never recovered, fading slowly into total and permanent oblivion.  

Jim was sure he knew the reason for his rapid deterioration, although he no longer had the energy to spare to hold on to his anger.  The unforeseen meeting with Sandburg had stimulated already enhanced senses, opening them to their optimum capacity, but without Sandburg’s continuing presence and grounding, he was no longer in any sort of control.  This must surely be what true bonding was all about.  It was the reason why the compatible aboriginal pairs that Blair had spoken of stayed together, so close that they were almost as one.  Because they couldn’t exist without one another once the connection was made.

And the little bastard had turned him down flat. 

Certainly he had felt fine for several hours after he had stormed out of Sandburg’s apartment, undoubtedly due to the lingering beneficial effects of Blair’s company.  But as the evening had worn on, the familiar spikes re-emerged, gradually worsening in strength and frequency until he could have screamed in frustrated agony.  He had endured a night of misery more extreme than any in his memory, even including dark and perilous ‘black operations’ from his days in the military.  And at this moment, eating his gun seemed like an excellent idea.

\------------------------------------------

While Jim suffered in silence at his desk, four of his colleagues, who would like to consider themselves as Ellison’s friends even if he didn’t appear to reciprocate very often, were having a whispered discussion in the break room next door.  Under normal circumstances, Jim would barely have had to stretch his hearing to eavesdrop on every word, but they were all well aware that he was undoubtedly too preoccupied to bother.  Looking around at her three companions, Megan Connor sighed as she addressed them, worry creasing her pretty face as she spoke.

“Well, I don’t know about you blokes, but I reckon Jimbo’s way worse today – worse than I’ve ever seen him – and I feel responsible in a way.  I mean, when he was throwing a tanty yesterday I suggested that he go and see this teacher at Rainier that I’d read up about. The bloke’s supposed to be a sentinel expert so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to check him out.  I’ve hardly been able to have a lucid conversation with Jimbo, but I think he did go and meet him, and it may or may not have something to do with how he’s reacting now.  I mean, we all know that Jimbo’s apt to rub people up the wrong way, so perhaps he pissed Sandburg off?  Who knows, but I think I’d like to see if I can track the guy down and see if he can throw any light on Jimbo’s worsening condition.  I might be able to change his mind about helping Jimbo.”

Meeting her gaze, the man seated opposite her nodded in rueful agreement.  Captain Joel Taggart was a rotund and pleasant-faced African American.  A generous soul, he had transferred to Major Crimes from heading up the Bomb Squad after a crisis of confidence, and he was universally appreciated as a good man and very capable detective.  Often partnered with Connor, he knew she only meant to help their colleague even if Ellison didn’t always appreciate it.

“I think you may be right, Megan,” he answered sadly.  “Jim’s barely holding it together, and I’m sure Simon will be forced to act soon.  The man’s no good to either the department or to himself at the moment, and needs any help he can get.  If you want to go and see if you can speak to this Sandburg character, I’m happy to cover for you.”

The two younger men at the table also nodded in agreement.  Henri ‘H’ Brown was an ebullient African American with dubious taste in Hawaiian shirts, and even worse taste in humour, but he was good-hearted for all that, and didn’t like to see Ellison suffer.  His response to Megan’s suggestion was unsurprisingly immediate and unforced.

“Yeah, go for it, Megs.  It can’t hurt, ‘cos the poor schmuck is going downhill fast.  Let’s see if this teacher can help,” and he looked sideways at his partner to gauge his opinion.

Brian Rafe was a dapper young man, whose sartorial taste earned him the nickname ‘Mr GQ’ in complete antithesis to his partner.  Much more reserved in nature, yet he also felt genuine sympathy towards the suffering sentinel, and said as much.

“I agree with H, Megs,” he replied, offering her a small but supportive smile.  “It could be Jim’s best shot at getting some control back.  I’ve never seen a sentinel lose it so quickly – not that I’ve seen that many, you understand.  There just has to be a good reason for it.  It seems to me that there just isn’t enough known about sentinels, and I’ve never seen much in the way of research.”

Smiling in relief at her comrades’ unquestioning support, Megan replied, “Thanks mates.  You’re good sports.  And you’re right, Brian.  There’s very little new information available about sentinels, and what there is seems way off base.  And guides barely get a mention.  But this Blair Sandburg’s a young man; some kind of genius it seems; so let’s hope he has something new to add.  So, I’ll get going as soon as I get my stuff together, OK?”  And as the others nodded and murmured their assent, they stood and made their way back to the bullpen, only for Megan to freeze in horror as she pushed open the door.

Sitting bolt upright in his seat, head cocked in a ‘listening’ pose, Jim stared towards the door, but his eyes were glassy and unseeing.

“Oh bugger!  He’s zoned!” and Megan ran forward, automatically reaching for the motionless cop.  “Come on, Jimbo,” she muttered urgently.  “Don’t you do this to me!”

\----------------------------------------

**Same morning: Blair:**

While Jim had been suffering from sensory torture, Blair Sandburg had been enduring his own version of hell.  After Jim had stormed out of his apartment, he had taken a few minutes to calm himself down, then, still feeling feeble and shaky in the aftermath of his previous episode, took himself off to bed to try and catch up on some genuine rest.  Under normal circumstances, it took a lot to get Blair into bed – for purely sleeping purposes anyway – and all-nighters were no strangers to the over-worked TA and grad student.  However, the unpleasant altercation with Jim Ellison had left him feeling upset and despondent, and less able to fight off the general feeling of malaise pressing down on him.   The only good thing at the time was that his head was still relatively clear, so he snuggled down under his pile of blankets, thankful for small mercies.

However that situation didn’t last, and a mere few hours later, Blair woke from a troubled doze to feel the onset of another doozy of a headache.  And this one had all the signs of being far worse.  Sure enough, as the night progressed, he underwent an action replay of his terrible weekend, only this time he was sure he could feel flashes of emotion from the neighbouring apartments, the walls doing nothing to insulate him and nothing he did seemed to be able to block them.  Although in no condition to analyse the situation any more than superficially, he was horribly aware that this must be some form of enhanced empathy, and he was in real trouble if he couldn’t find some way of controlling it.  For a few blessed hours late that night and in the early morning, he had some respite – presumably because most of the other residents nearby were asleep – and managed to get a few snatches of slumber.  It didn’t help however that his dreams were all about Jim Ellison, and they scared him awake again time after time.

After the final one, in which the sentinel took on the form of a huge, fearsome caveman, who seized a trembling and struggling Blair and dragged him to his cave, he gave up trying to sleep again and hauled himself painfully out of bed to make a cup of tea.  Grateful that he had woken up before finding out what his dream sentinel had intended to do to him, yet he had come to the unpalatable conclusion that he needed to see Ellison again whether he liked it or not.  He surmised that the sentinel was likely suffering in the same way he was, and it had to do with the fact that they were meant to be sentinel and guide.  And if this was what being a guide – a true guide to a fully enhanced and working sentinel – meant, then it sucked as far as he was concerned.  No wonder no one had written about it.  In modern society, who would expect two complete strangers to accept unconditionally being compelled to live and work together simply because they had connected and activated each other’s gifts to such an extent that they became effectively a symbiotic entity?

But that seemed to be the case, and Blair was either going to have to go with the flow or go slowly mad from all the emotions boiling in his brain. 

And what about Ellison?  Was he suffering the agonies of uncontrollable sensory spikes?  It seemed very likely, but Blair was depressingly certain that the big cop wouldn’t like the situation any more than Blair did, so the gods only knew what would happen if – when – Blair confronted him again.

Sighing despondently, Blair sipped his cooling tea and set himself to endure the next few hours as best he could until he could meet up with the sentinel again.  Which would have to be at the PD, because he didn’t have Ellison’s home address.  Oh, joy…..

\----------------------------------------------

**Later that morning, Cascade Central PD Reception:**

A truly wrung-out and shaky Blair made his way up to the Reception desk in Cascade Central PD’s foyer, trying to hold himself together enough to address the frowning desk sergeant on duty.  He had already called in sick, unwittingly scaring Janet yet again, and had used some of his scant cash to take a cab downtown as he knew only too well that he was in no shape to drive.  At present he was clinging desperately on to the meagre relief offered by max strength Tylenol, knowing that he couldn’t realistically take any more if he didn’t want to overdose, but that possibility seemed quite tempting right now.  Stepping up to the desk, he looked up at the sergeant with huge eyes shadowed by smudges of deep purple like bruises, his unshaven face pale and pinched in pain.  However, before he could utter a word, the other man growled, “What the fuck do you want, you little hippy scumbag?  Whatever it is you’re on, you won’t get any fixes here, unless you want me to drag you up to Vice!  Now, clear off if you don’t want trouble!”

Stunned by the man’s venom, and reeling from the anger beating at his vulnerable brain Blair stared at him with wounded eyes for a moment before swallowing hard.  He knew he had to get his message across; otherwise he would have been only too glad to take the man’s advice.

“Look, man, I know what this looks like, but it’s not what it seems, OK?  Um, see, I need to see Detective Ellison in Major Crimes.  It’s really urgent, man.  Please?  Look,” he added excitedly, suddenly finding inspiration from the narrow-eyed and threatening glare boring into him.  “I’ve got his card, see?  He gave it to me in case I needed to see him, OK?” and he thanked his lucky stars that he had accepted the small white object earlier in the evening before their argument.  Shame it hadn’t had Ellison’s home address on it though.  He really could do without this embarrassing and painful experience.  Perhaps he should have called ahead first?

The desk sergeant snatched the card from his shaking hand, sniffing in disbelief and disdain as he inspected it minutely.  Suddenly his expression changed to one of malicious glee.  He knew Ellison’s rep as a real hard-ass, and it occurred to him that this little punk actually deserved to have his ‘meeting’.  _Ellison’ll rip his fucking balls off, fucking little junkie!  He must be out of his mind actually ASKING to talk to that guy!  This could be fun…._

Reaching for the phone on his desk, the sergeant asked politely, “What name should I tell them, Mr…?”  “Sandburg.  Blair Sandburg,” Blair replied in relief, too distracted to concern himself with the cop’s mean and speculative perusal as he called up to MCU and spoke for a moment or two.

A few minutes later, the elevator across the foyer disgorged a very attractive but concerned-looking young woman, who hurried over to the desk, virtually ignoring the sergeant as she fixed Blair with a piercing gaze.  “Are you Blair Sandburg?” she demanded curtly, and at his tentative nod, she grasped his bicep in a strong grip.  “Come with me, then, sir.  You’re needed…” and she towed him towards the elevator, leaving the sergeant gaping like stunned mullet.

With a meek compliance alien to his usual independent and even feisty nature, Blair allowed himself to be ushered into the elevator without complaint, simply because he was gradually becoming aware of a strange phenomenon.  His headache was steadily diminishing, the oppressive external emotions muffled and receding.  Instead it was being replaced by a weird sense of urgency as the elevator climbed ever closer to the seventh floor.  The floor where the Major Crimes Unit, and therefore his intended goal were situated.

Scarcely absorbing a word the young woman beside him was saying – which again was a totally uncharacteristic reaction given his normally affable and accommodating personality – he was perturbed to find himself trembling in anticipation.  But in anticipation of exactly what, he had no idea.  He just knew he had to face up to his destiny, whether he wanted to or not.

When the doors to the MCU finally opened to reveal a chaotic scene, Blair simply pulled away from the hand guiding him and approached the figure seated before him, neither looking to left nor right as he focussed single-mindedly on Jim Ellison’s zoned and motionless body.  He also ignored the large dark-skinned man who huffed and puffed and tried to intercept him, only to be waylaid by the woman who had accompanied him.  Instead he sank to the floor beside Jim’s chair and placed one hand on the zoned sentinel’s chest, whilst rubbing his bicep with the other.  His voice automatically almost sub-vocal, he called the sentinel back, whispering words of encouragement and advice in what he would later realise was an instinctive and soothing ‘guide’ tone.

And within moments, the big cop responded.  The strong body shook itself, and the eyes lit up, sparking once more with intelligence.  And Blair found himself on his ass as the sentinel pushed him violently away, growling, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you little punk?”

And that was more than Blair could take.

A non-confrontational peacemaker by preference, it took a lot to rouse Blair to anger, but after what he had endured over the past few days he had had more than enough.  “What the **fuck** was that for, Ellison?  You ungrateful bastard!  You wanna stay in la-la land?  Be my guest, you asshole!”  Almost incandescent with rage and indignation, he pushed himself to his feet, intending to make a rapid exit, only to find himself grabbed by the huge black guy.  Gripping Blair by the upper arms and shaking him like a rag doll, Simon Banks pretty much echoed his detective as he snarled, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, you little punk?  I ought to--” and was abruptly interrupted by an equally furious and semi-feral sentinel, who physically shoved him aside and clutched a shocked and temporarily speechless Blair to his powerful chest.

As Simon spluttered in affronted indignation, he was prevented from retaliating by a firm grip on his forearm.  Glancing down, he met the compelling gaze of Megan Connor, who demanded his attention.

Of all the MCU personnel present, she was the one with the best idea of what was going on simply by putting two and two together and employing her knowledge of sentinel lore.  She could see that Blair Sandburg was indeed a real guide – the sort she had always hoped to find for Davy – and she also realised that Jim must have been tracking him as he entered the building, and had zoned on the sensory input.  There was no other explanation as far as she could see, and it was also proof positive in her mind that these two belonged together.

And what they would make of that was anybody’s guess.

“Don’t sir.  I think Jim just found his true guide, and it wouldn’t be a good idea to get between them.  Whether they like it or not, they belong together, I’m sure of it, and the poor buggers are stuck with each other.”

Frowning fiercely, Banks stared incredulously at the Aussie detective, shaken by her fervour and importunate words.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Connor!  Tell me you’re not serious!”

“I wish I could, sir, but this is exactly what I’ve always believed a true bond or connection would be.  Jimbo – I mean, Detective Ellison – needs Mr Sandburg to help him control his senses now they’re so much more acute, and although I’m not certain exactly what Mr Sandburg gets out of it, by the look of him when he arrived at Reception, I’d say it was some sort of mental shielding?  Whatever it is though sir, it looks like it’s a done deal.”

Shaking his head in automatic denial even if his pained expression suggested that there was just a hint of reluctant acceptance seeping into his personal belief system, Simon turned to glare at Jim, who was still clutching the smaller man to his chest and growling like some sort of huge predator at bay before potential attackers.  Finally sighing deeply, Simon nodded brusquely at his subordinate.

“Cut it out, Ellison!” he barked with all the power at his command.  “Stand down and get your ass into my office, now!  And bring him with you.  We need to talk!” and he turned on his heel, striding back towards his office without checking to see if Ellison was following.

As Simon’s orders penetrated the sentinel’s consciousness, Jim the cop abruptly came to the fore, and he shook his head in momentary confusion, frowning as he took stock of the situation.  Dismissing everyone else as irrelevant for the moment, he released Blair from his iron embrace, only to seize the smaller man by the wrist, and strode towards Banks’ office dragging Sandburg along with him.

Although bewildered by the rapid turn of events, Blair bitterly resented being towed along like a recalcitrant toddler, and batted ineffectually at the hand gripping his wrist, at the same time trying to dig his heels in.

“Get off me, you fucking caveman!” he growled, pink with embarrassment at the various bemused or openly smirking stares following their progress.  “Let go of me or I’ll…” Jim suddenly halted just outside the door, and turned to glare down at his captive.

“Or you’ll _what,_ Sandburg?  Just get in here, and let’s see what we can make of this…” and without further ado, he opened the door and pushed Blair through, closing it firmly behind them.

Watching their departing backs, Megan and Joel exchanged worried glances as they returned to their desks, ostensibly to work, but casting frequent concerned looks at the closed office door, wondering what was taking place inside.

\----------------------------------------

Once inside the office, Blair found himself virtually herded into the chair furthest away from the door, effectively hemmed in by the irate Ellison and the big captain, who loomed menacingly over his desk glowering at the TA in a most intimidating manner.  Although still bolstered to a certain degree by his surge of indignant anger, and his head was undeniably 100% better, Blair was still weak and shaky from hunger and exhaustion, and was ruefully aware that he lacked neither the energy nor presence to withstand much in the way of pressure from these two.  Also with his brilliant and analytical brain once more almost up to par, he realised with no little shock that now he was no longer being bombarded with unwanted external emotions, if he put his mind to it, it appeared that he could access the feelings of specific individuals at will.  It wasn’t telepathy, for sure, but it did make him….what? .An actual empath?  A real guide?  It must be true, then.  And if so, he was in _big_ trouble.  A tiny part of his consciousness had clung desperately to the hope that it was all just one big misunderstanding – or a nightmare from which he would soon wake up - but that hope had now gone.

The realisation knocked him sideways and he was hard put to control the incipient panic that welled up immediately at the thought.  However, with an immense act of willpower, he managed not to dissolve into a gibbering wreck in front of his ‘guards’, and concentrated on his breathing while remaining seated, arms folded uncompromisingly across his chest, and staring stonily at the wall opposite.  No way was he going to give these two the satisfaction of seeing him go into meltdown, even if his insides felt like jello.

Having said that, he was also well aware that he didn’t exactly look his best, and in the others’ eyes he probably looked more like someone who belonged in lock-up or the drunk tank.  He had felt so unwell this morning that he had barely had the energy to wash his hands and face, let alone shave and wash his hair, which was pulled back severely in a ponytail to contain the greasy curls, and he was wearing yesterday’s clothes.  It was hardly surprising that the desk sergeant had assumed that he was some sort of vagrant or junkie, although that was still no justification for his rudeness.

Lost in his turbulent thoughts, he blanked out his immediate environment, so was unaware – or rather, uncaring – of the fact that Jim was studying him minutely, savouring the consummate ease with which he could now control his ultra-enhanced senses, and the precise and intimate information which was now his to command.

While the inner sentinel was purring smugly and contentedly at having acquired the guide, Jim himself was far from comfortable with the consequences.  His senses told him that Sandburg was deeply distressed despite his brave attempt at appearing nonchalant, and the too-slender body was still far from healthy.  The guide needed a bath, good food and plenty of sleep, and Jim knew that it was his responsibility to provide it.  But he had never wanted or needed a companion before – witness his abortive attempt at marriage – and that conviction remained.   And he was equally certain that Sandburg felt the same way, judging by the bitterly contentious conclusion of their previous meeting.  But there was no longer any doubt in his mind that they would have to stay together, or suffer the painful and possibly fatal consequences, so Sandburg was just going to have to put up with it.

Of course, it never occurred to him then that he was at fault in any way for assuming that it was the guide who would be sacrificing virtually everything of himself in order to back up his sentinel.  That the young man already had a life and ambitions of his own was of minor importance to Jim.  Of what value was a mere TA in comparison to a senior detective, however brilliant said TA was supposed to be?  After all, Jim would be making sacrifices of his own, giving up his solitary lifestyle, which to him was onerous enough.

Both men were pulled abruptly from their thoughts by Simon’s impatient command. 

“Right then.  Who’s going to enlighten me about this sorry state of affairs, and just what are we going to do about it?”

It was Blair who jumped in first, much to the surprise of the other men, unwilling to be intimidated or overlooked more than he could help.  If not physically impressive, Blair at least had confidence in his intellect, and was prepared to use it to try and regain a little self-respect.  Meeting the big captain’s gaze unflinchingly, he began, “Just how much do you know about sentinels and guides, Captain Banks?  I’m assuming your knowledge is based on what you have learned from working with Detective Ellison?”  Blair kept his tone deliberately neutral as he didn’t want to antagonise the other man any further, and he certainly didn’t want to be perfunctorily dismissed as a loud-mouthed smartass.  Not until he’d had his say, anyway.  On receiving an unwilling nod of assent from Banks, he fell automatically into ‘lecture mode’ as he continued.

“You’ll be aware then that a sentinel such as Detective Ellison needs the back-up of a partner in order to help him control his senses under trying circumstances.  But like most people I suspect that you are under the impression that any willing volunteer will do?”  At a second grudging nod he hurried on; his tone and demeanour betraying his passion for the topic.  “I have to say, though, that there are a few people – admittedly mostly academics such as myself – who believe that the role of the guide is of no lesser importance than that of the sentinel.  And is, in fact, as much down to genetics as it is with sentinels.”  He wasn’t surprised to see a look of profound disbelief cross the captain’s brooding features, but carried on doggedly anyway.  It wasn’t as if he wasn’t accustomed to receiving the same reactions from the majority of his peers after all.

“As I was saying, having studied indigenous sentinel and guide pairings in Peru, I am persuaded that the connection between true guides and their sentinels is far deeper than most folks in so-called modern society choose to believe.  Or indeed are comfortable with.  The pairs I observed seemed to be connected on a spiritual as well as physical level, and were so closely in tune with each other that they lived and acted as one.

“And that’s where the problem lies.  I had no idea I had any empathic or guide capabilities until I met with Detective Ellison, but now we seem to be connected.  And I have no idea where we go from here…” and he tailed off despondently, his courage draining from him like his fading energy in the face of the blatant discomfort and scepticism clouding the captain’s features.

While he was speaking, Jim had been studying Blair closely, the frown between his brows and tight-lipped grimace betraying the conflicting thoughts and emotions within.  While the sentinel was glad to hear that Sandburg’s assessment of the evidence complemented his own, it was also obvious that the young man was dismayed by the situation to the extent that for a moment Jim felt positively sorry for him.

On the other hand, as far as he was concerned, it had to have been Sandburg who had instigated the whole mess, so he’d just have to suck it up, and Jim was going to tell him so.

“Now hold on there, Sandburg,” he snapped, pre-empting any response his captain may have intended to offer.  “If you’re so disgusted and upset at the thought of interacting with me, why did you set it up in the first place?  I was quite happy continuing as I was before you turned me into some sort of super-sentinel!”

At his vicious words, Blair swung round to face him, open–mouthed in shock and stupefied into silence for a long moment.  Then his wide eyes narrowed in fury as he retaliated, refusing to take Ellison’s unjustified accusation lying down.

“Me?  _Me??_ How _dare_ you accuse me of setting you up!  I assure you, _Detective_ that allying myself with a pig is the very last thing I’d do voluntarily!  If I recall it was _you_ who knocked _me_ down, not the other way around.  And it was you who sought me out in hospital, wasn’t it?  So don’t go blaming me for this sorry mess!”

Abruptly, Simon Banks had had enough.  “I don’t give a damn about who did what and to whom!” he roared, glaring at them both and shocking them into silence.  Having captured their undivided attention, he continued in a more conciliatory tone.

“The fact remains that _something_ appears to have happened between you, and you’re going to have to live with it until you can find a cure, if a cure there is.  So let’s stop with the accusations and start looking at your options.  Because I sure as hell don’t want to waste any more time listening to you bickering!”

It was at that point that Blair’s treacherous body decided to betray him.  No longer sustained by the adrenaline rush that had kept him going thus far, after several days of near-starvation and sleep deprivation, he was dismayed to feel his limbs start to tremble as spots danced before his eyes, and he fought desperately to cling on to consciousness.  He so didn’t want to swoon in front of these two like some demoiselle in distress, but it looked like a strong possibility.  By now completely attuned to his guide’s physical state, Jim was already reaching for him when Simon also registered Blair’s dramatic pallor as what little colour he had had drained rapidly from his face.

“OK, that’s it,” he growled, only this time not without a touch of unwilling sympathy.  “You’re on personal leave, Detective, starting from now.  Take him home. Do what you need to do to sort out this situation, and I don’t want to see either of you back until you’ve got this sentinel voodoo shit under control one way or the other. 

“Take care of your guide, sentinel, and keep me informed of your progress.  Dismissed!”

Nodding distractedly, his concern for Sandburg overriding all other considerations for now, Jim wrapped a strong arm around the younger man’s waist and lifted him to his feet, supporting him as he swayed briefly, stubbornly fighting to stay upright.  As soon as he felt the abrupt drop in blood pressure and the boneless collapse heralding Sandburg’s dead faint, he scooped the unconscious body into his arms and strode out of the office, ignoring any and all comments as he made directly for the elevator.  His only thought now was to get to the parking garage and get his guide home to his territory.  And what happened after that, well, that remained to be seen.

\---------------------------------------------

**Part 3: Remedial Therapy:**

**#307, 852 Prospect:**

Blair was still out for the count as Jim pulled up in front of his building, and he grimaced ruefully at the prospect of carrying the smaller man up to his loft apartment on the third floor.  He just hoped that the ancient elevator was working for once or this was going to be slow progress.  Climbing out of the jeep and moving around to the passenger side door, he eased the comatose guide out and into his arms, shoving the door shut with his butt as he turned towards the entrance.  Even though Jim took pleasure in working out and keeping his body in top physical condition, the past few days of sensory problems had left him less than 100% himself, so he was grateful that Sandburg was somewhat underweight at the moment.  Recalling his impressions of the young man’s physique while at the hospital, Jim was once again aware that with good food and rest, the guide would be sturdy and compact, and no lightweight despite his slender build.  And once again he swiftly dismissed the thought of a naked Blair, because for sure that wasn’t going to happen yet given the guide’s pissy attitude and vehement denial as regards the nature of their connection.  As a sentinel there might be some obscure law by which he could possibly justify forcing the issue of sex, but as far as Jim the cop was concerned, that would be tantamount to rape, and there was no way he’d lower himself to that.

Thanking the gods that the elevator was actually working, Jim hauled his sleeping burden up to #307 and fumbled his way inside where he deposited Sandburg on the nearest sofa.  Covering him with a warm afghan, he went to the freezer to search for some home-made chicken soup, because his first priority was to feed the guide once he woke up.  His own stomach grumbled in sympathy, and he realised that some food of his own wouldn’t go amiss as he hadn’t been eating that well himself, what with his sense of taste cutting in and out without warning. Grinning in anticipation, he put the container in to defrost, sure that with his guide present, he would actually enjoy the meal for once.

By the time the soup had warmed through, and Jim had put some garlic bread in the oven to accompany the meal, Blair was beginning to rouse.  Quickly moving over to the sofa, Jim squatted down beside his guide, ready to reassure him that everything was OK, because he was sure to be somewhat disorientated.  Sure enough, as Blair’s eyes flickered open and reality kicked in, he jerked in Jim’s restraining grip, only the sentinel’s hands preventing him from toppling off the sofa in his clumsy attempt to sit up.  Blinking rapidly and peering around him, his eyes settled on Jim and he frowned in puzzlement.  “Hey, man.  Where am I?  And how did I get here?  Gods!  I feel like shit!”

Grinning wryly, Jim responded, his tone dry as he studied the pale and anxious face in front of him.

“Can’t argue with you there, Chief, but we can soon do something about that.”  He was immediately shocked and rather embarrassed at the natural way the gentle nickname had slipped out, but luckily it appeared that Sandburg was still too distracted to have noticed it.

Coughing slightly to cover up his transient discomfort, Jim hurried on.  “You’re in my apartment, Sandburg, because you passed out at the station.  I thought it best to get you back here where I could keep an eye on you.  You need some decent food inside you, and you could also do with a shower and change of clothes.  After that we can talk, OK?”

Head tilted on one side, Blair regarded him quizzically, unsure of how to respond.  His new-found empathy told him that Jim appeared to have no ulterior motive towards him other than the plan of action he had outlined, but there was no evidence of friendship or affection either.  Just a pragmatic approach to taking care of the ailing guide.  But then again, it was entirely possible that Jim was shielding his emotions deliberately from Blair, and Blair could hardly blame him for that considering the mercurial nature of their acquaintanceship thus far.

“Um, OK.  Thanks man.  For bringing me here, that is.  And I think I could eat.  Something smells really good.”

“Here you go then, Sandburg,” and Jim held out his hand to help the young man to his feet.  “You can wash up at the sink there, then we’ll eat.  I think we both need it.”

A short while later, Blair pushed back a little from the table, his appreciative grin and empty bowl proof of his satisfied hunger.  “Thanks, man, that was good.  Didn’t realise just how hungry I was.  Looks like you were too?”

“Yeah, you could say,” Jim answered somewhat sardonically.  “When my sense of taste’s out of whack, I don’t feel like eating much, since everything tastes too spicy.  But I feel good now.  Must be your influence.  Anyway,” he hurried on before Blair could respond, “I think you could probably enjoy that shower now.  I’ll dig out something for you to wear while you’re in there, and then give you the guided tour of the apartment.  OK by you?”

“Sure, Jim.  That’s really nice of you.  But I don’t want to put you out.”  Blair had to admit to being a little surprised at how thoughtful Ellison was being, but the promise of a hot shower short-circuited his musing and he eagerly followed the bigger man to the bathroom.

“Extra towels are in the closet, and there’s a spare toothbrush and razor under the sink.  Knock yourself out,” and Jim left him to his own devices.  Grinning happily at the luxuriously fluffy towels, Blair forgot everything else for a few precious minutes while he enjoyed the best shower he’d had in a long time.

While Blair showered, Jim picked out some clothes for him, automatically tuning in to the young man as he hummed happily under the warm spray.  The kid sounded happy, and had a nice voice, and Jim found the sounds soothing to his ears.  He pulled out some smallish boxers, a tee that had shrunk in the wash and his smallest pair of sweatpants, which should do with the drawstring pulled tight.  He added a pair of thick socks and his PD sweatshirt to the pile and left it outside the bathroom door.  He was satisfied that the mismatched clothing would do until they had collected Blair’s own stuff from his apartment, because it had to be said that Jim was still working on the assumption that the guide would be moving in with him immediately.  It simply never occurred to him that he was taking Sandburg’s acquiescence for granted, believing that the guide would be only too grateful to move out of his damp and scruffy rooms.  And it also had to be said that Jim was feeling a certain amount of smug self-righteousness for the sacrifices he was making on Sandburg’s behalf.

As he waited for Blair to finish, he continued to mentally plan for his guide’s accommodations.  Tomorrow they would go to his rooms and pack up his stuff.  Jim didn’t think he had much, and most of what he did have were books and papers, so a couple of trips in the Jeep would take care of that.  Jim intended for Sandburg to have the small spare room under the stairs which at the moment was used for storage.  It had a futon which would serve for a temporary bed, and Blair’s boxes could be squeezed in there until they could pick up some cheap bookshelves and bedroom furniture for him.  It briefly crossed Jim’s mind that some people would expect the guide to move in with him into the big bedroom upstairs, but he didn’t think either of them were comfortable with that idea.  For now it was enough to have the guide under his roof.

The discussion as regards Blair’s role in the PD would probably be difficult, but Jim was sure that the guide would understand the necessity of working alongside his sentinel.  After all, the kid was supposed to be some sort of genius, and a sentinel expert at that, so it shouldn’t be hard to convince him.  Jim would have to confer with Simon as to what exactly Sandburg’s official status would be, since he wouldn’t be able to partner Jim as a civilian ride-along except as a temporary measure.  Other individuals in police departments who were partnered with sentinels were already trained cops since they weren’t usually true guides.  Perhaps TPTB would have to create a new official Guide position to accommodate Sandburg, as Jim couldn’t somehow see Blair agreeing to take classes at the academy given his opinion of cops in general. 

Just then the bathroom door opened and his guide emerged surrounded by a cloud of steam, and Jim just had to grin at the sight.  Blair’s hair was a shining halo of curls which fluffed out around his face, due, although Jim didn’t know it at the time, to the fact that Blair had no conditioner with which to tame his unruly locks.  He had obviously used the old hair dryer that Caro had left behind, and the effect was startling.  Blair was trying to wrestle them into submission by pulling them back into a ponytail at his nape, and he smirked up at Jim’s appraising gaze.

“Thanks, man.  That was great, even if I look like a poodle now.  And thanks for the clothes too.  It’s good of you to find these for me until I can get my own back.  They are a bit big, though…” and he grinned disarmingly at Jim’s raised eyebrow.

In truth, Jim thought the smaller man looked cute – _and where did that notion come from?_ \- his inner voice whispered slyly.  But it was true.  The rolled up sleeves and pant cuffs gave Blair a gamin look which the sentinel found quite charming despite himself, and he couldn’t quite restrain the glimmer of appreciation in his expression.

“You’re welcome, Sandburg.  You certainly smell better now, so you’ve done us both a favour.  Now, I’ll give you the guided tour.”  As he turned away, he failed to notice the flash of hurt that crossed the guide’s expressive face at the less-than-tactful comment, but Blair shook off his momentary pain and concentrated instead on checking out the loft, his natural inquisitiveness coming to the fore once again.  The place was almost clinically clean, as Blair might have expected, and was high-ceilinged, bright and roomy.  There was a spectacular view of the marina from the balcony, and it had to be said that Blair was most impressed.  The only thing he was disappointed with, however, was the total lack of any knickknacks or personal touches, so there were few clues as to the owner’s personality.

It didn’t take long, and they finished up at the spare room, where Jim threw open the French doors.  As Blair obligingly peered inside, Jim said, “This is where you can sleep, Sandburg.  It’s not much, but the futon’s OK as a temporary measure.”  Assuming that Jim meant that he could stay the night, Blair smiled up at him, his pleasure obvious as he replied, “That’s so good of you, Jim.  You really don’t have to, but I really appreciate it, man.  I’ll be out of your hair in the morning, though.  I need to get back to my place to sort out my stuff for the week’s lectures.  I can’t take any more time off if I can help it.  Dean Rothschild’ll have a cow!”

Frowning in consternation, for a moment Jim didn’t know how to respond, but when he did, Blair’s face was a picture as emotions chased across his mobile features one after the other.

Laughing incredulously, Jim exclaimed, “Are you nuts, Sandburg?  Why the hell would you want to go back there?  How long do you think it’ll be before we both start coming unravelled again?  Don’t you get it, Darwin?  We have to stay together like you said, and that means living under the same roof!”

Trying for a conciliatory tone, Blair began patiently, “Yes, I _do_ know that, Jim, only too well.  But what makes you think I’d move in here?  I mean, it’s not so convenient for the U, and I can’t afford to pay for anything more expensive…” and that’s as far as he got before Jim cut in once again, his tone this time sneering and sarcastic as his growing anger made his words deliberately harsh.

“You really are crazy if you think I’d move into that rat’s nest you call an apartment, Sandburg, or one like it!   And what make you think you’ll need to be near the U anyway?  You’ll have your work cut out as my permanent partner, so you may as well get used to it.  You’re staying here.  This is your life, Sandburg.  End of story!”

For a long moment Blair was stunned into silence, his emotions veering wildly from shock and hurt to disbelief and finally fury, and he got right up in the sentinel’s face, uncaring for the moment as to how vulnerable he was.

“You arrogant _asshole!_ How dare you dictate to me how and where I should live!  My life’s just as important as yours!  Why should I be the one to give it up?  I told you before, and I’ll say it again.  Sure I’ll help you, but I won’t be your slave, and I WANT MY LIFE BACK!”  Then his face crumpled as the true magnitude of the situation hit him and his short-lived rage burned out in the face of Jim’s implacable stare.  Refusing to let the sentinel witness his incipient tears of hurt and frustration, he pushed roughly past the other man into the small bedroom, slamming the French door so hard that the glass rattled, making Jim wince in pain at the auditory assault.

Shaking his head in an attempt to get his hearing back to normal, Jim scowled at the closed door, wanting nothing more than to throw it open and drag the infuriating young guide back out again.  _Ungrateful little bastard!  Who the Hell does he think he is?  How dare he speak to me like that!  I’ll give him what for!_

But before he could act on his impulse, he stopped to listen.  Really listen.  And was completely undone by what he heard coming from within.

\---------------------------------------

Inside the little room, Blair threw himself on the futon and curled up into a tiny ball, trying to make himself as small as possible, like he used to do as a child when things got too tough and out of his control.  He felt the tremors begin as his adrenaline-fuelled strength deserted him once more, and the overwhelming feeling of despair bubbled up inside him, refusing to be held back any longer.  His innate optimism was utterly crushed by the events of the last few hours, and his hot tears couldn’t be contained.  Everything he had worked for; everything that he was; was about to be taken away, just because he had the misfortune to be a compatible guide to a sentinel.  A hard-assed and self-centred pig of a sentinel whose main tenet in life appeared to be ‘My way or the Highway.’  It was too much, and he sobbed aloud in his pain and grief, trying vainly to stifle the sounds in a pillow as he didn’t want to give Ellison the satisfaction of hearing him cry.

Outside the room, Jim’s rage had completely dissipated in the face of such despair, and he rested one hand against the doorframe as he leaned his forehead against the cool glass.  He was shaken to the core by his own cruelty, Blair’s extreme response to his words and actions forcing him to take a good look at himself and re-evaluate his behaviour.  And he really didn’t like what he saw.  He realised that many people saw him as a self-centred loner, and in all honesty he couldn’t argue with that assessment – but he had never thought of himself before as a cruel man.  But that was how he’d acted towards his new guide, and suddenly he felt small and mean as if he had kicked a puppy.  Which in effect he probably had.  Although hardly a pet, his guide was as reliant on him as an actual pet would be, as he was reliant on the guide for his own well-being.  Sighing in resignation, he realised at last that he’d gone about this whole situation the wrong way, riding rough-shod over his guide’s needs and feelings as if he was some sort of second-class citizen or menial.  And even if he was, such an attitude would be inexcusable.  Hell, even his marriage had broken up because of his adamant refusal to let Carolyn into his innermost thoughts or pay her the attention to which she was due.

It was time to rethink his plans.  He had to put this right, otherwise they were both in for a life of purgatory.

Deliberately swallowing his pride, he quietly opened the door and scanned the scene before him, mortified by what he was seeing.  The darkness within the room posed no problems for his senses as he absorbed every detail.  Blair was on the futon, scrunched up against the far wall with his face buried in a pillow as he cried, his frame shaken by the force of his strangled sobs.  The air was filled with the scent of saline and what Jim could only describe as the taint of his guide’s misery.  Unable to help himself, he approached the trembling figure, fully expecting at any moment to be rebuffed.  Gently taking the smaller man by the shoulders, he held on even when Blair tried to pull away, surprising himself with his own patience and resolve.  Never before had he been determined to weather such an emotional storm, but this was important for them both.

He knew he wasn’t the best with words; more likely to cause unintentional hurt and misunderstanding despite his best efforts; so he concentrated instead on projecting nothing but sympathy and comfort in the hope that the empath would ‘read’ him and be convinced of his genuine concern for the desolate younger man.

And his patience was rewarded as Blair gradually uncurled in his hold and turned towards him, mutely accepting the offered comfort and burrowing his tear-damp face into Jim’s shoulder as his arms slowly encircled the bigger man, his body relaxing as exhaustion set in.  Within minutes he was asleep in Jim’s arms, and to Jim’s utter amazement he felt nothing but satisfaction and tenderness towards the quirky little guide.  He was certain that this wasn’t just a sentinel and guide thing.  It had to be more than that.

As he settled down to enjoy a nap of his own with his armful of sleeping Blair, he knew they had a long road ahead of them, and given his own nature it wasn’t going to come easily to him.  But now he was determined to make whatever effort was needed to create a real partnership.  It was up to him to convince Blair of his commitment and hope that the young guide was willing to reciprocate.

\-----------------------------------------

**Early the following morning:**

At 0 dark thirty Jim woke up abruptly, his military training kicking in as his internal alarm brought him from slumber to alertness in an instant.  In the pre-dawn half-light, he looked down at the warm body snuggled up against him, and his lips quirked in an affectionate grin as Blair snuffled and mumbled unintelligibly before settling down again.  Wincing slightly as his back twinged in protest, Jim was ruefully aware that he felt as if he had spent the night sleeping on a pile of rocks, and he mentally reminded himself to replace the elderly futon as soon as possible.  He decided to move before Blair woke up, as he thought that the young man might be a little discomfited at waking to find himself cuddled up to Jim.   He gently eased himself out from beside the sleeping guide and moved quietly to the door, glancing back with an amused smirk as Blair muttered again and grabbed a pillow; clutching it to him like a substitute Jim.

After making a necessary trip to the bathroom, Jim went to the kitchen to set up the coffee machine, guessing correctly that Blair would need some caffeine as soon as he was up and about.  He decided that a simple but nourishing breakfast of eggs and toast would be sufficient for now, so set about preparing the ingredients to start cooking as soon as he heard his guide on the move.  Shortly afterwards he heard the tell-tale sounds of a body slowly waking up, and his grin widened as he heard Blair’s muttered words.  “Oh man, I need the bathroom!  Shit, I don’t remember falling asleep…wonder what time it is?  Oh, gods, am I where I think I am?”  Shuffling noises heralded Blair’s exit from the small room, and he glanced shyly over at Jim, expression apologetic as he waved his hand nervously towards his intended destination.  “Uh, morning, Jim.   Uh, gotta go, you know?” and he almost ran to the temporary sanctuary of the bathroom, delightfully pink-cheeked in embarrassment.   Jim couldn’t help but smirk as he listened to Blair’s running commentary as he made use of the facilities.  It wasn’t that Jim wanted to pry, and he told himself that he would make a concerted effort to grant his guide privacy in the future, but on this occasion he wanted to gauge Blair’s state of mind.  As he listened he wondered if Blair realised how much he talked to himself, even during his sleep.  It was almost as if he constantly needed to share whatever was going in inside his head, whether or not there was anyone around to hear him.

“Oh, man!  I’m like, _so_ embarrassed!  Jeez, Blair, could you be any sadder?  Blowing up like that then crying like a baby.  And just where do you get off spending the night using Jim as a body pillow?  Oh, man.  How am I going to face him?” 

However, he couldn’t draw out his ablutions any longer, so he mentally girded his loins and exited the bathroom, his apologies already tumbling from his lips as he approached the kitchen.

“Uh, morning again, Jim.  Sorry about that – needed to go, you know?  And, um, about last night?  Look, man, I’m sorry for blowing up at you like that.  I know I was really upset, but I realise that it’s not just me who’s affected by this thing between us.  I mean, I guess you didn’t ask for it either.  I’m sorry, man.  Anyhow, thanks for not decking me,” he added with a shy grin.  “I mean, I wouldn’t have blamed you after getting up in your face like that.  And I’m really sorry about the meltdown.  Just wanted to assure you that it’s not usual for me.  I mean, yeah, I get mad sometimes, and panic attacks for sure on occasion, but I don’t usually cry like that.  It’s so embarrassing.  But, um, thanks for last night.  I mean, holding me?  That was over and above, man, and I really appreciate it…”  His words tailed off as he realised he was rambling, and he ducked his head again, blush deepening as he waited nervously for Jim’s response.

Moments later he raised his head again, his expression this time impossibly cute as surprise and incredulity chased away his shame.  Because far from the expected anger or sarcasm, Jim’s tone and demeanour were relaxed and almost affectionate as he grinned at his guide.

“No harm, no foul, Chief.  I guess we were both ready to blow, and I realise I wasn’t dealing with the situation any better than you.  I was mad too, and I admit I’m not known for my ability to compromise, so let’s have something to eat and start over, OK?  Why don’t you butter the toast, and we’ll talk after?”  And Blair nodded eagerly as he hurried to do Jim’s bidding, a tiny spark of hope glimmering in his eyes as he grasped the unexpected olive branch to his breast.

\----------------------------------------

Shortly after, with breakfast eaten and the clean-up done, Jim and Blair sat side by side on the sofa, clutching fresh cups of coffee, and both a little tongue-tied now the time had come to begin their discussion.  Shooting Jim a worried glance, Blair swallowed hard then began to speak, reluctant to start the ball rolling, but needing to clear the air between them in the hope that they could build a better understanding of where each of them was coming from.

“Look, Jim.  I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.  And well, I know I don’t like being dictated to, but I agree you have a point.  I mean, about me moving in here.  I guess it’s the logical option, given that you’ve got more space.  It’s just that I’ve always been independent, and I can’t get my head around your saying that I have to give up the U?  I guess I’m asking you to explain exactly what you expect from me.  I’m not saying that I’ll accept all of it, but maybe we can work on that compromise you mentioned?”

Faced with Blair’s wide-eyed appeal, Jim took a deep breath and set himself to respond positively to his guide’s request, knowing that this was the moment to start working out the foundations of their lives together.

“If it’s any comfort to you, Chief, then yes, I’m sorry too.  I realise now that this whole situation wasn’t down to you.  Can’t help my suspicious cop instincts I guess.  It just seemed way too coincidental that we should meet up when we did, but maybe there is such thing as Fate after all, huh?” and he offered Blair a wry grin.

“Anyhow, I’m also sorry I acted – and reacted - so badly last night.  When you get to know me better, you’ll realise that I’m a loner by nature.  Always have been, so it’s hard for me to work around a partner.  Even my marriage couldn’t cure me of that,” and he grinned a little sheepishly at Blair’s look of open astonishment.

“Yeah, I tried it for all of eighteen months, then Caro and I decided that we were better as friends than a married couple.  And pretty much all of that was down to me.   So, I have some learning to do, which isn’t going to come easily to me.  But I’m game to try, if you’re prepared to be patient.

“Anyhow,” he continued more soberly, “I know I was harsh as regards your job, Sandburg.  I took it for granted that you’d accept my point of view, and I’m sorry about that.  But I shall need you to work with me at the PD, Chief, and I don’t know how we’re going to get around that.  Maybe eventually we’ll be able to be apart for longer periods so you can have more independence, but for the moment I can’t see it.”  He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy at the disappointment that flashed across Blair’s face, so he continued gamely, “Look, Blair, we can always go to the U later today and see what your department head has to say.  Then we can make some decisions based on that, OK?  Meanwhile, we’ll get showered and changed, and then I’m thinking that we could go over to your place and pack up your stuff.  Shouldn’t take long, then maybe later we can call in at a furniture store.  Try and get you some shelves and stuff?”

Shaking himself out of his introspection, Blair looked up to meet Jim’s open gaze, and nodded despite himself.  “OK, Jim.  Sounds like a plan.  And perhaps Dean Rothschild’ll have some suggestions?” he added hopefully.  “Anyhow, I want to pay you rent, man.  At least what I’ve been paying already….” Then he tailed off again, both of them realising almost simultaneously that if Blair had to give up teaching, he’d be out of a paying job and wouldn’t be able to contribute anything for the time being.

But Jim wasn’t about to let him dwell on that.  Deliberately trying for optimism, he said, “Hey, I’m sure it won’t be for long, kiddo, even in the worst case scenario.  I mean, the PD’ll have to come up with some paid position for you if they expect you to partner me, so you’ll be able to pay your way soon enough.  Let’s not borrow trouble.  We’ve got enough to deal with for the next few days as it is.  Until Simon decides we can come back to the office, that is,” and his face twisted in a sour grimace as he recalled the captain’s attitude towards his guide.  And to him, truth be told.   He couldn’t envision them receiving much sympathy from that quarter until he and Blair managed to prove their worth to the MCU.   He looked up again as Blair nodded thoughtfully, his keen intellect already engaged with more important topics as he murmured, “Yeah, you’re right, Jim.  And I guess we need to start learning right away how to work together?  I have some ideas, man.  I’m thinking we begin with some testing to find out just how good your range is now, then work on your fine controls…?”

“Oh joy!  I can’t wait!”

And they shared a moment of genuine laughter as they rose and prepared themselves to face the day.

\-------------------------------------

Some while later, Blair looked anything but happy as he hunched in his seat, trying to absorb the full impact of the Dean’s words, face clouded with misery and disappointment.  Seated beside him, Jim’s jaw muscles jumped from the strain as he ground his teeth together, seething in mute fury as he desperately fought to control the urge to throttle the pompous academic where he sat.

Mere hours earlier, he and Blair had passed a surprisingly pleasant and amicable interlude packing up Blair’s belongings and transporting them over to the loft.  Although it had to hurt a little, Blair had made a determined effort to look on the bright side, his innate optimism and cheerful nature asserting itself such that Jim was entertained by inconsequential chatter and witty anecdotes, finding himself charmed by his new guide.  He was surprised to re-discover a feeling of warmth and camaraderie he had never experienced outside of his Ranger unit as he had never felt comfortable with letting his colleagues at the PD get too close.

As expected, Blair had little in the way of material possessions, consisting of a small amount of well-worn clothing, a few personal items and as many books as he had managed to collect over the years.  He cheerfully informed Jim that the majority of his books and artefacts were crammed into his tiny office at Rainier, so only one trip was needed to transport his few boxes to his new home.  And since they now had two vehicles at their disposal, Blair having been reunited with his beloved Corvair, the whole operation had been accomplished by lunchtime.

And then Blair had been brought down to earth with a bang when they had made their 2.00 pm appointment with Dean Rothschild, the Head of the Anthropology Department.

Greeting the pair with noticeably restrained politeness, the Dean had invited Blair to clarify the situation, which Blair had proceeded to do in great detail, with Jim’s willing cooperation when practical demonstrations were called for.  He completed his explanation and met the Dean’s assessing gaze with eagerness and hope lighting his attractive face.  Only to deflate at the other man’s harsh and unbending judgement as he studied his visitors intently with cold and appraising eyes from beneath beetling brows.  

“So, Mr Sandburg, if I understand you correctly, it would appear that your theories regarding the true nature of guides have proved to have substance after all.  I have no doubt that your peers and your dissertation committee will be most interested in your findings, and I congratulate you on your perseverance and also on your new-found calling as a guide. 

“However, I regret to say that you have completely undermined any future you may have envisaged at this institution.  Although your teaching has been exemplary and your achievements thus far have been highly commendable and beneficial both to this department and to the institution as a whole, I cannot allow you to continue in your role as Teaching Assistant.  As a working guide to Detective Ellison you will undoubtedly be obliged to spend the majority of your time at the Police Department, and I cannot allow your teaching commitments to be compromised.  I know you are well aware of my feelings on absenteeism, and I would not like to see them applied to you.  I must therefore advise you that your position as Teaching Assistant is terminated with immediate effect, and I ask that you vacate your office as soon as possible.

“As far as your continuing in the doctoral programme is concerned, as you are already ABD then provided you can convince me and your committee that you have the time and energy to produce and submit a suitable dissertation within a reasonable and agreed time limit, then I shall consider the matter and get back to you.

“Although I’m certain you won’t appreciate the sentiments at this time, I wish you luck, Blair, and thank you for your outstanding contribution to Rainier University.

“And now, good day, gentlemen…” and he rose to his feet as he dismissed them with finality, only relaxing minutely when his secretary arrived to escort them from the office.

\--------------------------------------

Understandably distressed, Blair was silent on the trip back to the loft, and Jim left him in peace while he wrestled with his own anger on his guide’s behalf.  He knew that realistically there had been little hope of Blair keeping his job in its current form, but had hoped that there might have been some flexibility given Sandburg’s consistent loyalty, dedication and contribution to the institution.  Unless the offer to submit his dissertation was actually implemented, then Blair had been virtually cut adrift by academia and life as he knew it was definitely over.  That the young man would be devastated and disillusioned was a given.

However, once they pulled up outside their building, Blair seemed to give himself a brisk mental and physical shake, and turned to face Jim wearing a brave if somewhat resigned smile which nearly reached his still mournful blue eyes.

“Well, I guess that’s that, then.  So, big guy, I guess it’s time for us to start practicing the sentinel/guide stuff, huh?  Ready for some tests?” and his grin became genuine as he chuckled at Jim’s groan of mock resignation as the other man rolled his eyes dramatically, not even attempting to disguise the twinkle that his guide’s words elicited.   Jim was simply relieved and gratified to see this evidence of Blair’s resilience and optimism even though he could tell what it was costing the smaller man, and he vowed to do his best to make Blair’s sacrifice worthwhile.

\---------------------------------------

Over the next few days, the two men threw themselves into their new lives, both on the sentinel and guide front and also their developing personal relationship.  Although Jim frequently bitched about the number of tests Blair put him through; which often left him with a headache that only his guide’s talented scalp massage and soothing voice could dissipate; yet he had to admit that the younger man’s enthusiasm and the thought he put into devising said tests bore testament to Blair’s devotion to duty and to his sentinel.  As was the way he took control of Jim’s well-being insofar as the environment in the loft was concerned. 

Although Jim had long been used to looking after himself, it was hugely satisfying to have someone do it for him – someone who willingly went the extra mile to search out and implement even better sentinel-friendly options without being asked.  Sure, Blair was prone to blithely disregard many of Jim’s precious House Rules, but in general, the loft became more of a home to them both as Blair introduced more and more personal touches in the form of colourful throws and pillows and the careful placement of several of his own articles on Jim’s shelves and surfaces.  Having cleared out his office within 24 hours of the Dean’s request, his books were now piled on the second-hand shelving units Jim had insisted on buying for his small bedroom, and his ancient laptop sat on the cheap desk he had acquired at the same time, along with a new twin bed.

And Blair could cook also, so Jim benefitted greatly from carefully prepared dishes designed to appeal to sentinel taste buds.

All in all, within a matter of days, the pair had settled down remarkably well into a mutually satisfying routine during which they made great progress on the sensory front.  With Blair’s touch and voice to ground him, Jim was amazed at how easily he could control his greatly enhanced senses, thrilling both of them with the sheer range of which he was now capable.  Obviously he needed to continue to practice, and his control was apt to slip without his guide’s presence, but Blair was reasonably certain that they could return to the field as soon as they could secure Simon’s blessing.

There was, however, a less satisfactory side to their partnership, and that had a lot to do with Jim’s reticence regarding physical intimacy.  Although he welcomed Blair’s touch during their practice sessions, and was happy to indulge in an occasional friendly hug or face pat, he held off from making any advances of a sexual nature, even though he knew it left the other man perplexed and even somewhat hurt.  It certainly wasn’t on account of Blair’s person.  Far from not being his type, as he had previously tried to convince himself, Jim found him beautiful inside and out, and the whiff of pheromones he often detected when they were in close proximity told him that Blair was also far from disinterested in Jim.

As far as Jim was concerned, the problem lay in the nature of their present connection and the potential consequences of a deeper, sexual bond.  As it stood, they were already developing a physical capability far beyond what was currently expected of a sentinel and guide pair, but there was no spiritual or mental connection beyond a certain level of mutual empathy.  And Jim had to admit that the hints and theories Blair had shared concerning some type of ‘mind-meld’ which would take their relationship to an even higher level frightened him greatly.  Now fully committed to their partnership, Blair had cast aside his original doubts and was willing to explore new possibilities, but Jim certainly didn’t feel the same way.  Intensely self-contained by nature and by choice, the notion that Sandburg could get even further into his head was not to be borne, even if it meant that he would gain the same information from his guide.  He had no desire to become part of one of Blair’s ‘seamless pairings’ like his much-admired indigenous couples, doggedly hugging his privacy and individuality to him even in the face of Blair’s barely-disguised disappointment.

Whatever Blair might think of Jim’s obstinate refusal to even consider a deeper bond, he gamely accepted the situation as it stood, and worked to make the best of it.  If it was his karma to be a guide, then he would be the guide that Jim wanted.  He understood that his sentinel had no interest in him as a lover, so a friend and workmate he would be to the best of his ability.

And barely a week after their abrupt dismissal from the bullpen, Simon Banks called Jim at the loft and demanded his presence, along with his guide.  He was missing his best detective, and it was time for the pair to provide a progress report.

\----------------------------

**Part 4: Setbacks and Remissions:**

**Three weeks later, MCU bullpen:**

**Jim:**

Rubbing at eyes that felt dry and gritty from overuse, Jim peered again at the grainy images on his computer screen, doing his best to ID the perp captured therein.  He had been asked to help H and Rafe out with one of their cases, which involved a particularly sneaky and violent thief who robbed victims who used carefully chosen ill-lit or isolated ATMs.  Thus far there had been no eye witness or even usable CCTV footage of the attacks, but for once the perp had made a mistake, and had faced the unseen camera for the briefest instant – enough to give Jim the sentinel if not the Forensics lab a fair chance of recognising him.  Jim was pretty sure he could successfully complete the task, but only because he had Blair beside him, doing his usual gentle but efficient guide routine.  And that fact riled Jim enormously for reasons he kept to himself.

In truth, this was only the latest in a whole number of similar requests he and Blair had responded to since their return to the PD, all of which they had completed with great success and much appreciation from those they helped, but three weeks down the line Jim was still waiting for Simon to assign him his own case load again.  It was infuriating for the detective, although he was honest enough to admit that a lot of it had to do with his own behaviour since his return, but he was at a loss as to how to fix the situation.  And as always, the undeserving target who bore the brunt of his anger was Blair.

It had started within minutes of their arrival at the PD, and Jim recalled with a pang the eager anticipation Blair had displayed; so determined to do his best by his sentinel and embrace his new responsibility as guide and partner to the MCU’s most successful detective.  However, as they had made their way up from the parking garage to the bullpen, Jim had been shocked and disgusted by the comments he had overheard, and what he continued to overhear from all too many members of the PD personnel who dared to call themselves cops.  Certainly it was a rare individual who wasn’t aware of the sentinel’s hearing range, but even those who knew and compensated for it had underestimated just how much greater that range now was.   And by the time they had reached the MCU bullpen that first day, Jim was almost boiling over with rage at the sheer malice directed at his innocent guide.  A guide who was completely at a loss as to identifying the source of his sentinel’s sudden withdrawal and change of attitude towards him.

Lips thinned in remembered rage and disgust, Jim replayed the original conversation he had overheard, sentinel recall ensuring that every word was indelibly etched in his memory.  It had sounded like a group of uniforms with too much time on their hands, and Jim wished he had gone with his first impulse and tracked them down there and then.  But he had chosen instead not to worry his guide with explanations, and the poor kid had been in the dark ever since.

First voice: “So, that was Ellison’s new playmate.  Pretty little thing, ain’t he?”

Second voice: “Sure is.  All that hair and that face!  But why’s he here?  Apart from the obvious…!”

Third voice: “Shhhhh!  He’ll hear you!”

First voice: “Nah.  He’s a sentinel, not Superman!”

Second voice: “Yeah, but who is he?  What’s so special about him?  Randall over at Bayside precinct doesn’t have anyone like that.”

First voice: “Ah, but apparently _Ellison_ needs him to work properly.  No ordinary police partner for Mr High and Mighty Detective Ellison, no sir!  He has to have a _Real_ Guide.”

Third voice: “With looks like that, he’s probably ‘special’ to Banks and the Chief as well.  I’m surprised he isn’t walking funny.  You’d think Ellison’d be nailing his ass to the mattress every chance he got!”

Second voice: “True enough.  And maybe if we can get him alone some time, he can be ‘special’ to us too….” And the laughter that followed was coarse and cruel, and Jim knew then that he’d never relay the content of the conversation to Blair.

But maybe he should have done, instead of shutting the younger man down when he’d voiced his concern for Jim’s sudden bad mood.  And now it had gone on for so long, Jim was at a loss as to how to put things right. 

As a team they were certainly working well enough.  They had covered several crime scenes over the past few days, and the sheer amount of extra trace evidence Jim had been able to identify had amazed and pleased their colleagues.  But Jim was growing more and more impatient to get out in the field again.  At this rate, they might as well just transfer down to Forensics and have done with it.  However, each time he had confronted Simon about their situation, the captain had reiterated that it was out of his hands.  The Chief and Commissioner flatly refused to let an untrained civilian ride with one of their detectives; concerned about bad press and legal liability in case of unforeseen injury to said civilian.  The answer was to create an official position for Blair, but that had been delayed thanks to the intervention of the Mayor, who wanted to be reassured that not only was it necessary, but also that it couldn’t have any repercussions for him in an election year by setting a precedent that could backfire somehow on the department.  Simon had assured Jim that it was going ahead and that he was pushing as hard as he could, but Jim would just have to contain his impatience and try not to do anything to rock the boat.   After all, it was just as annoying for Banks not to be able to use his star team for their primary purpose.

Abruptly coming back to the present, Jim realised that Blair had moved away, and was chatting quietly to Megan and Joel.  The young man sounded happier; more so than when he was with Jim these days; and Jim reluctantly admitted that he was glad that at least his friends in MCU were treating his guide well.  Both at work and at home now Blair tiptoed around Jim, uncertain of his status and wary of having his head bitten off at the slightest excuse.  The easy camaraderie of their first days had gone, to be replaced by a stiff and stilted atmosphere wherein Blair felt like an unwanted guest rather than a welcome roommate and partner.  It couldn’t go on, but Jim hoped that things might improve when they got the go-ahead to get back out in the field.  Perhaps then they could show their detractors that Blair deserved his special status, and the nastiness would be silenced in the face of their success.  Because the one thing that Jim was certain of was that with his guide at his side, he was going to be the best.  He would make sure of it.

Ostensibly studying some paperwork, Jim needed little effort to listen in to the quiet conversation behind him, the only guilt he felt being wrapped up in the shabby way he was treating his guide.  If only he could explain why he was doing it.  Why he was pushing the young man away at every opportunity.  Because then he would understand that Jim was doing it for his own good.  If the nasty elements in the PD thought that there was nothing between them, perhaps the snide and downright dangerous rumours about Blair’s perceived sexuality and role within the MCU would cease.

But if he were to tell Blair what was going on, it was likely that the young man would do something foolish, like standing up to them.  Despite his guide’s claims to the contrary, Jim already knew that Blair was a courageous and honourable man who wouldn’t take insults to his sentinel or himself lying down, so it was up to Jim to protect him and protect him he would.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Blair chatted amicably with Megan, his expression lighting up as his tone became more animated.  Joel had a friendly hand on his guide’s shoulder as he looked on with a genial smile on his pleasant face.

“Yeah, see, it was so obvious to Jim,” his guide was saying, as he proudly described how Jim had dealt with a crime scene the previous day at the request of two Homicide detectives.

“As soon as he dialled up his sense of smell he recognised the husband’s aftershave at the scene.  One of those really expensive ones, you know?  The sort Rafe likes to use when he can afford it.  And there was a partial print too, that Forensics had missed, but hell, it was hardly surprising hidden like it was under the rug.  But it was enough to shoot down the husband’s so-called alibi, and he ‘fessed up.  Done and dusted, thanks to Jim!” and he grinned proudly up into Megan’s smiling face.

“That’s as may be, Sandy.  But don’t you forget your part in it.  He wouldn’t be able to do it without you.  Not to the same extent, anyhow,” and she patted Blair’s blushing cheek with a gentle hand.  Then her expression hardened as she glared over at Jim’s back, her next words reaching their target only too easily as intended.

“And let’s hope that miserable bugger remembers too.  He should be truly grateful for your guidance, Sandy, not treating you like shit.  I’d have thought he’d have changed once he’d found a real guide, but I was wrong.  He’s even more of a bloody-minded drongo than he was before…”

However, seeing the distress her words caused Blair, she offered him a rueful grin and changed the subject again.

“Hey, you know it’s Rafe’s birthday tomorrow?  He’s asked everyone to meet him at Barney’s Bar tonight after work to have a celebratory drink with him.  Will you be coming?  The invitation includes you and Mr Cheerful over there,” and she jerked her head in Jim’s direction.

“Oh, um, I don’t know,” Blair began a little anxiously.  “I think Jim may have other plans?”

“Then you can come without him,” Joel said with firm but gentle persuasion.  “You should be able to socialise with your friends in the department without Jim’s permission”.  Then, raising his voice slightly, he continued, “So, how about it, Jim?  Are you coming to Barney’s also, or will it be just Blair?”

Backed into a corner, Jim knew that he’d either have to act like a total ass and turn the offer down flat, or accept the invitation whether he liked it or not, because sure as hell he wasn’t letting his guide go to Barney’s on his own.  Twisting around in his seat he offered Joel an almost convincing smile as he answered through clenched teeth, “Sure, Joel.  We’ll be there,” and he turned back again before his smile turned into a grimace of self-disgust.

\--------------------------------

Later that evening the two men entered the packed and noisy bar situated close to the PD building.  A favourite with cops, the atmosphere was buzzing, especially around the tables at back where Rafe was holding court with his friends and colleagues.  Pressed tightly against Jim’s side by the possessive arm thrown across his shoulders, Blair murmured softly, “Hope you’ve got everything dialled down, Jim,” only to shut down at the long-suffering and irritated grimace Jim sent him.  With a sigh, Blair turned his attention back to surveying the scene with interest, because there was no point in trying to talk to Jim.  The man had been tetchy all afternoon, even more so than usual, and Blair was sure it was because he hadn’t been able to back out of tonight’s celebration.  He just wished that the arm around him was indicative of affection rather than simple possession, but he realised now that he had completely misread what his role was to be in Jim’s life.  The first week was merely an aberration and he had been right to be worried.  _This is your life, Sandburg.  Suck it up!_

As they crossed the crowded bar, Rafe looked up and spotted them.  “Hey, guys!  Thanks for coming!  Let me get you a drink,” he stood and beckoned to them, obviously a bit tipsy already, but happy enough.  When they arrived at the table, he grinned cheerfully and pulled Blair into a bear hug, unconcerned with Jim’s automatic growl.  “Hey, Hairboy!  ‘Bout time you were allowed out to enjoy yourself with the MC gang!  Beer?” and at Blair’s delighted nod, he waved to a passing waitress to order another round.  “You too, Ellison?” and he put that order in also without waiting for Jim’s response.  And that was the way the evening progressed.  As Jim sat on the side-lines nursing his single beer and watching and listening for any threat to his guide, Blair was drawn into the midst of the cheerful party, laughing and joking and entertaining them non-stop as he relaxed and enjoyed himself for the first time in weeks.  Surrounded by his appreciative audience, the young man positively sparkled with unaffected happiness, and Jim couldn’t help but admire the beauty before his eyes.  Blair should be his, and his alone.  It should be him at the receiving end of that glow and affectionate humour, and the reason why he wasn’t was all his own fault.  And damned if he wasn’t going to do something about it. 

Just then, Simon arrived, and sat beside Jim for a few minutes before joining in the party proper. 

“Hey, Jim.  Didn’t expect to see you here, but I’m glad you made it.  It’s about time you made an effort to socialise more.  And it’s good to see the kid enjoying himself also,” he added, studying the bouncing and effervescent guide with an unexpectedly affectionate grin.  “He’s quite the entertainer, isn’t he?  And who’d have thought he had such a nice smile?  No wonder Connor’s smitten with him, but she’d not the only one.  Rhonda’s completely won over by him, and I think I can speak for virtually all the clerical and forensic staff too.  You going to start letting go of the leash a bit more now?” and he turned to watch Jim’s reaction to his words, his eyes shrewd and compelling as he waited for his subordinate’s answer.

Biting back his automatic desire to tell his captain to mind his own business, Jim took a moment to get himself under control enough to really hear what the man was asking.  And slowly at first, then gradually gaining momentum as he gauged Simon’s reactions, he told his boss just why he was acting like he was, finishing up by admitting that he wanted to tell Blair everything, but was fearful now of what his guide’s response would be, having hurt the young man so often over the preceding weeks.  His words finally drying up, he met Simon’s frank gaze and waited for the man’s response with no little unwonted trepidation.

“Well, hell, man, why didn’t you come to me?  I know you feel as if it’s your responsibility to protect the guide, but it’s my responsibility to protect all my people!  I know there are elements within the PD which we could well do without, but unfortunately it’s the same in every work situation.  Sometimes bad people slip through the net however careful the recruiting process is, and once in, they’re damned hard to weed out again.

“But like Sandburg has said in my hearing, you’re a gifted sentinel, not a superman, and you deserve the same backup as I would give all of you.  Tell the boy, Jim!  Explain everything to him and make it right.  Together you can face up to the bigotry if you’ve got each other’s backs, and I’ve got yours.  And I’m certain that goes for the rest of your friends in MCU also.

“And before you make any more excuses, I’ll also say that I’m certain Sandburg will understand and forgive you.  From what little I know of him already, I’m betting he’s a good soul, and only needs you to be honest with him about your feelings.  Your true feelings for him.”

“Damn, Simon, where did you get to be so intuitive?” Jim murmured wryly, offering his captain and friend a sheepish grin.  “Is it so obvious?”

“Only to me, my friend,” came the immediate reply.  “And that’s why I get paid the big bucks!  Now, I have one other bit of news for you, then you can take your guide home and make his day.  The paperwork’s finally come through, and as from Monday, Blair Sandburg is officially recognised as Guide and partner to Sentinel Detective James Ellison.  He’ll have a salary similar to a senior clerical assistant to begin with, but it will go up according to experience and results.  I know it’s not commensurate with what he ought to be earning, what with a Master’s degree and all, but it’s as good as I can get for now.  He won’t be expected to carry, and it’ll be your responsibility to make sure he isn’t put into any more danger than necessary, but provided he signs on the dotted line that he accepts the risks, you’ll both be good to go.  And about time too!”

Face alight with a genuine smile, Jim clapped his boss on the shoulder.  “Thanks, Boss.  You just made my day also.  Do I get the weekend to sort things out with my partner?” he asked artlessly, quirking an eyebrow at the other man.

With mock exasperation, Simon huffed, “Oh, OK.  Go ahead, Ellison.  And see you both first thing Monday morning, bright-eyed and bushy tailed and ready for action!”

“You got it, sir!” and Jim got to his feet to gather up his astonished guide in the first stage of his mission to make things right.

\---------------------------------

On the drive home, a slightly inebriated and anxious Blair studied his sentinel, his brow creased by a worried frown.  He had been taken by surprise when Jim had virtually scooped him up mid-sentence as he had been regaling H with a far-fetched tale of one of his anthropological exploits.  Muttering a general apology to his equally surprised colleagues, Jim had hustled his guide out of the bar, ignoring his squawks of protest; his only goal to get Blair into the jeep and get him back to the loft.

“Uh, are you OK, man?” Blair asked nervously, concerned despite himself that Jim was suffering somehow.  “Is it your senses, Jim?  Was the bar too much?  Perhaps we should have left earlier…” and he was shaken when Jim turned and actually smiled at him.

“No, Chief.  It wasn’t the bar.  I just wanted to get home as I want to talk to you.  I’ve got something to tell you, and I wasn’t about to do it with an audience, OK?” 

Bemused at the gentle tone of voice and non-confrontational reply, Blair was silent for a moment, wondering who this Jim Ellison was, and where they had hidden the pod?  He wasn’t so inebriated that he hadn’t realised that for once Jim wasn’t blocking him, and he could discern the genuine affection his sentinel was directing at him.  Wary now, he decided to wait until Jim took the initiative in this upcoming talk, because he sure as hell had no idea what was happening here.

\------------------------------------

On arriving at the loft, Jim seated his now distinctly anxious guide on the sofa, maintaining a virtual silence until he pressed a cup of fresh coffee into the bewildered young man’s hands before seating himself on the coffee table; close enough so he could look directly into Blair’s eyes, their knees almost touching as he wound up his courage to begin.

And once he started, he held nothing back, only occasionally holding up a hand in a mute request for silence when it appeared that Blair wanted to interrupt.  Carrying on doggedly, he told Blair everything, needing to get all his issues out into the open before he could change his mind again.

He told Blair all the things he had heard, explaining exactly why he had reacted the way he did, and terminated the difficult confession with a sincere apology.

“I’m sorry, Chief.  I know I’ve hurt you so badly these past few weeks, and it’s so not how I envisioned our return to the PD panning out.  It was Simon who set me straight.  I mean, I had almost made the decision to come clean, but lacked the courage to do it.  He made me see that I had to tell you tonight, and I’m glad he did.”

He sat back then, holding Blair’s astounded gaze and waiting for the anger and derision he believed was his due.

But when Blair finally spoke, his tone was very different.  Unhappy, to be sure, but not angry either.  There was pain instead as well as understanding, and Jim reached eagerly for the reignited hope for forgiveness that his guide’s first words seemed to promise.

“Oh, man!  Why couldn’t you have told me, Jim?  We could have faced it together as we’re supposed to do!  Look, I truly appreciate your reasons, man, wanting to look out for me and all.  I do!  I know it’s a natural reaction for you to want to protect your guide.  But it’s not like I didn’t already know, Jim,” and he smiled sadly in the face of Jim’s open astonishment.

“I may not be able to hear what you do, Jim, and I’m sorrier than I can say that you had to listen to that crap because of me, but hey, new empath here!  I’ve always been pretty intuitive about people, even before our meeting awoke the actual gift, and I guess that’s why.  Anyway, I can tell when there’s good people around, same as I can pick up on the bad guys, and I’ve been careful to avoid them.   It’s life, man and it’s not like I haven’t encountered prejudice before.  I have long hair, I wear earrings, and I’m too smart.  I’m a bastard and Jewish too.  How many strikes against me is that?  And I’ve always been able to take care of myself so far anyway.  Being labelled as a fag is just one more term, and it’s not as if it wasn’t true anyway.  Sort of.

“So, all this pushing me away for my own good was unnecessary, man.  Unnecessary and hurtful for us both.  So what are we going to do about it?”

Jim’s foremost emotion was a sense of shame.  He had seriously underestimated Blair on so many fronts, so keen was he to live up to the image of the big, macho sentinel protector.  It was true.  Blair was no macho man himself, but he was smart and feisty, and well able to talk himself out of most uncomfortable situations given the opportunity.  And he was right also in his declaration that they were stronger together.  With his guide at his side to support and help him contain both his senses and over-aggressive proclivities they could face up to almost anything the bigoted assholes at the PD could throw at them, especially knowing that they could rely on the backup of their boss and their colleagues at MCU.

But it was time now to move the conversation forward.

“Er, I truly appreciate what you’re telling me, Chief, and it’s good to know you don’t hate me for my misconceptions even if I deserve it.  But, um, what did you mean ‘sort of’?  In the context of your earlier remarks.  Does it mean that you’ve have some experience with male/male sex?” and he found himself mentally crossing his fingers for a positive reply.

And he wasn’t disappointed.

His smile sincere and warm now even as a fetching rosy blush spread from his neck to his hairline, Blair responded softly.  “Um, yeah.  ‘Sort of’ about sums it up.  I mean, yes, I love women.  I really do, and I date them almost exclusively.  But I like men too.  My Mom, Naomi is a huge fan of the original hippy movement, and she taught me that love shouldn’t be dictated by gender or appearance.  The person is more important than the package, you know?

“But then again, I’m no muscle man, so I’ve never had the courage to go the whole way with a guy, see, in case they got too rough.  Never really got past first base.  But I definitely would with the right guy.  One I trusted implicitly…” and here he ducked his head, shy again before the heat and interest he could see building in Jim’s eyes, and feeling the waves of love and lust rolling off the other man’s body.

But there was something else he needed to say.  Something else he needed to make clear in case Jim should accuse him some way down the line of seducing him with an ulterior motive in mind.

“Um, there’s just one more thing, Jim.  I mean, I can’t know for sure, because I have no empirical evidence to back me up, you understand?  But, um, if we do what I think you’re asking me to do, we might just instigate a full bond.  Like the Peruvian couples have.

“Just wanted you to know before we take the final step and get carried away…?” and he ‘oomphed’ in surprise as Jim launched himself forward, pinning the delighted guide to the sofa as he sought the succulent mouth.

“No problem, Chief.  Bring it on, Guide…” and that was the last coherent word either of them uttered for some time.

\---------------------------

**Part 5: Cure for the Uncommon Guide:**

**Following morning, the loft:**

Jim woke bright and early, a little cramped from being in the same position for too long, and definitely on the warm and sticky side, but he wouldn’t have changed it for anything.  Peering down at the curly head resting on his chest, he gently squeezed his armful of guide, marvelling at how perfectly the compact body fitted against him.  Blair was still sound asleep, one arm around Jim’s waist while a leg was thrown across his thighs, almost as if the smaller man wanted to hold his bigger lover in place.  And Jim certainly wasn’t complaining.  Dropping a kiss on the curly crown, he grinned smugly, and lay back, content to rest a while longer, and lazily recalling their lovemaking and bonding last night.

When the two had finally made it up to the big bedroom upstairs, Jim had carefully undressed his guide, encouraging him to lie in the centre of the king-sized bed.  Eyeing him greedily as he quickly stripped, he was gratified to see that a naked Blair was as delightful as he had hoped and expected; a sensory feast waiting to be sampled.  True, he could tell Blair was nervous, but the smaller man had insisted that he trusted Jim implicitly, and there was no way Jim was going to betray that trust.  The sentinel needed to imprint and possess, but Jim the man needed more.  He was going to make this special for his guide and partner, who was doing Jim the immense honour of gifting him with his virginity.  This would be no buddy-fuck, or even marital obligation.  This was for life and it had to be just right.

Lying down beside Blair, Jim took his new lover’s mouth in a gentle kiss, which grew more passionate and lasted for many minutes before they broke apart, Jim smiling somewhat complacently down at his guide’s flushed features and eagerly aroused expression.  And then he began to explore the compact body laid out for his pleasure.

From the abundant curls haloing his head down to his shapely ankles and feet, Blair was perfection in Jim’s eyes.  Although still a tad underweight and not overly muscled he had wide shoulders, a narrow waist and hips, and well-shaped legs, all in perfect proportion.  Jim nipped and tasted the long and elegant neck before moving down to explore the lightly-furred chest so different from his own hairless torso but so appealing.  He paid special attention to the two cinnamon-coloured nubs begging to be touched and laved, making Blair moan in heated pleasure before Jim moved on downwards, frustratingly avoiding his main target as he investigated every enticing inch right down to the neat feet, and only then moving back up again to Blair’s enormous relief to inspect and thoroughly sample the eager and straining genitals in their nest of crisp curls.

And then it was time to move on, so Jim encouraged Blair to turn over so he could start again. 

Surprising himself with his own patience, since he was sure he had never before felt so aroused in all his life, Jim carefully prepared his guide for penetration, determined to make the experience as good as possible.  By the time he was ready to enter the hot and stretched passage; Blair was a mindless and boneless puddle of goo, wordlessly pleading for release.  The initial pain passed quickly as their heat and excitement grew, and as they reached climax within seconds of each other, they shared an amazing vision.

In a blue-tinted jungle, a silver wolf raced towards a sleek black jaguar, both animals leaping to collide and merge with each other in a blinding flash of mutual joy and understanding.  Mirroring their new-found spirit guides, Jim and Blair became as one, knowing one other on every level, two halves of one soul.  Truly seamless now, just as Blair had observed, and later prayed to become.  Together forever for as long as they lived, and perhaps even beyond.

Exhausted but ecstatic, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, feeling warm and more contented than either of them would ever have believed possible.  

\------------------------------------

A short while later, Blair began to rouse, smiling gently as he snuggled even closer to his firm but oh so comfortable ‘Jim pillow’.  Happy to indulge in a few more minutes’ peaceful contemplation, he hummed softly as he too recalled his own feelings the previous evening.  Certainly he had been nervous, as the situation was completely new to him, but his empathy told him that Jim meant him no harm.  Far from it, in fact.  Not only was his lover-to-be a superb figure of a man, but Jim had also made it clear that he was taking it on himself to do all the work just to make the whole experience special for his virgin guide.

Up until now, that had always been Blair’s role.  Never having any illusions about his own appearance, Blair had never thought of himself as special in any way, so had few expectations as far as making love was concerned, even though he greatly enjoyed the act itself.  Instead, he had always gone out of his way to make sure that the women he slept with enjoyed the sex to the best of his ability; even occasionally at the expense of his own gratification; but now here was Jim, treating him like a prince and making him feel both cherished and loved.

And now Blair was struck anew at how overwhelmed he was with love for Jim.  Not just as his own sentinel, but as his life partner and bond mate.  The moment of their joining had been transcendental; far more awesome then either of them could have envisaged.  And he was greatly comforted by the thought that neither of them would ever be alone again.

As he hummed a little louder and squeezed Jim a little tighter, his grin widened as he heard the rumble of Jim’s chuckle beneath his ear.

“Hey, sweetheart, ‘bout time you woke up.  How do you feel?  Not too sore, I hope?”  Jim’s tone was loving, but Blair knew his concern was genuine, so he opened his own mind to his sentinel, thrilled at the enhanced connection between them and wanting to reassure his lover that he was just fine.

“I’m fine, lover.  More than fine, although I’m not sure I’m up to an action replay just yet.  But it was wonderful, man.  The best ever.  Thank you so much, Jim.  I love you…” and he stretched up to clasp the back of Jim’s neck with his free hand, looking up hopefully to offer his mouth for a kiss.

And Jim was only too happy to oblige.  

Some while later they came up for air, and both smiling smugly, made their way hand in hand down to the bathroom to share a most enjoyable shower.

\-------------------------------------------------

**Monday morning, MCU bullpen:**

Jim and Blair entered the bullpen, Jim’s arm in its customary position, draped across the smaller man’s shoulders as he tucked his guide snugly into his side.  However, although this was the accepted norm now, most of their colleagues knowing that the sentinel was both protective and jealously possessive of the guide, this time their demeanour was totally different.  This was a Jim and Blair thing rather than sentinel posturing, and it was Megan who remarked on it first, her eyes narrowed as she regarded them, then her face lit up in a slow smile of recognition.

“Hey, Sandy!  You look great, love!  You’re both…um…different?” and she rose to her feet, striding purposefully towards them to hug the stuffing out of Blair, who giggled at the Aussie detective’s unaffected enthusiasm.  And this time, rather than reacting with his customary frown and growl of affronted disgust, Jim actually smiled at them.

Backing off just enough so she could study them both, head slightly tilted to one side, Megan’s grin was knowing and cheeky as she continued, “Jim, you’re…how can I put it?  Mellow!  That’s right; you’re not looking as if you want to rip my head off for daring to touch Sandy!   And Sandy, well you’re just glowing!

“Have you…I mean, are you bonded?” and her eyes shone with hope and affection.  And when they both grinned and nodded in affirmation, she threw her arms around them both, and even kissed a very surprised Jim on the cheek, before backing off again.

“That’s wonderful, mates!  Just wonderful!  Congratulations, both of you!”

Drawn by his partner’s obvious excitement, Joel crossed the bullpen to listen in to her words, and he too offered the pair his whole-hearted congratulations.  He had always admired and respected Jim even if the other man had frequently failed to return his friendly overtures, and he had very quickly developed a soft spot for Blair, so it did his heart good to see the young man smiling in real happiness for once.  And as the other occupants of the bullpen looked on with interest, Rafe and H entered, immediately approaching to join the group.

“What’s up, folks?  What’ve we missed?”  H’s open face wore an inquisitive but friendly grin as surveyed the scene.

“They’re bonded!  Jim and Blair are bonded!”  Megan was almost crowing with delight, not letting the pair get a word in edgeways in her glee.  And as Rafe and H added their own congratulations, treating Jim and Blair to friendly back-slapping and hair-ruffling – in Blair’s case anyway – a bellow from across the room broke up their spontaneous celebrations.

“Ellison, Sandburg!  My office, now!  And don’t you lot have work to do?” .But when Simon’s face disappeared back inside his doorway, there was a definite gleam in his eye as Jim and Blair hurried to do his bidding.

\--------------------------------------------

Once seated in Simon’s office, the captain offered both men a cup of gourmet coffee from his personal stash, which was gratefully accepted.  Helping himself to one also, he murmured, “One of my cousin’s better offerings, I think.  Better than the last one for sure.  I think that one had orange in it or something!  Still tastes like Maxwell House to me though,” and he grinned as Blair chuckled at the old joke, while Jim smirked fondly at his partner, eyes warm and appreciative.

“Anyhow, judging by your reception out there, I gather congratulations are in order.  I’m glad you took my advice, Jim, and by the looks of him, Guide Sandburg is also!”  He turned to address Blair then, his expression far more sympathetic than the young man had grown accustomed to being directed at him, as truth be told, the big man still scared him a little even though he made a real effort to hide it.

“So, Blair, I’m assuming that Jim also told you about the position that’s been created for you?” and at Blair’s answering nod, he continued.

“Good.  And let me say first that I’m pleased for you.  For you both, in fact, because even though he’s been acting like an asshole to you up until now, it’s been blatantly obvious how much better Jim’s senses have been working with your input.”  Here he glanced pointedly over at his detective, grimly satisfied to note the rueful and self-deprecating grimace on the other man’s face.

“Right then.  This is what it entails, kid.  It’s not the best pay in the world, but I’m sure that as time goes on, you’ll be rewarded as you develop the role and get the recognition you deserve.  It’s a civilian position rather like the admin staff, so you won’t be required to carry, although you will be expected to familiarise yourself with police procedure both in the office environment and in the field as required by your partner.  And of course you’ll have to sign a waiver to the effect that you understand the dangers of working and riding with a cop.  Without that, the brass will retract the offer, OK?”

Blair swallowed nervously, but he met Simon’s scrutiny with determination.  “I understand, sir, and I agree.  I know I have a lot to learn to make myself truly useful to Jim in his role as a detective, and also as guide to a working sentinel, but I’m committed to do my best by him, sir.  And I want to thank you for your efforts in giving me this chance.  Giving us both this chance,” and he sent Jim a loving glance before turning back to Simon.    

The captain held his earnest gaze for a long moment, then nodded briskly, satisfied with what he read therein.

“That’s all I wanted to hear, son.  However”, he continued, expression darkening as he looked now from one to the other.  “There is something else we have to consider, more’s the pity.  And I’m sorry to say it has to do with your relationship now.  That is, I assume I’m right in thinking that you’re together now, as in a couple?”

When he received nods of affirmation from both men, he carried on, although not without a touch of resignation in his tone.

“That’s what I thought.  And for my part, it doesn’t bother me, as long as I don’t know the details,” and he chuckled briefly before adding, sober again, “Seriously, I’m happy for you both, but others won’t see it the same way.  We here know now about real sentinel and guide bonding, even if we’ve had to learn it the hard way, and I’m sure that your colleagues in MCU are in the know also.  I suspect Megan will have educated them, and knocked any criticism firmly on the head also.

“But you also know that there are elements in the PD who are less than sympathetic to what they’ll likely see as a homosexual relationship pure and simple.  And between a civilian academic and one of their own at that.  I’m hoping that eventually most folks will come to realise that they’re witnessing a true bond in progress and simply accept the advantages and benefits to the department that a working sentinel and guide pair can provide.  But we’d be naïve to assume that there’ll be universal acceptance, and I want you to know that you’ll have my full backing should you encounter any serious intolerance, especially where Blair is concerned. Just be on your guard, OK?”

This time it was Jim who responded for them both as he nodded, face grim.  “Thanks, Simon.  It’s good to have your support, and we do understand the likely problems.  As I told you before – and as Blair now knows – I’ve heard some pretty nasty stuff about us, and particularly about Blair.  But we both agree that together we can face up to the bigots as long as we have the support of our friends.  It won’t be an easy ride, but it’ll be worth it,” and he reached over and took Blair’s hand, smiling warmly into the young man’s adoring eyes.

Harrumphing somewhat self-consciously at the pair’s open affection, Simon muttered, “OK, guys.  I get the message.  Enough of the love-fest, and go collect Blair’s paperwork.  Dismissed!”

And a grinning sentinel and guide stood and exited the office, unaware of the broad smile on their boss’ face as he watched their retreating backs.

\----------------------------------------------

Over the course of the following weeks, Jim and Blair’s relationship continued to develop on all fronts, both domestic and at work.  At home they had settled into a comfortable routine, with Blair continuing to take full responsibility for his sentinel’s general comfort as in seeking out and acquiring the best options for foodstuffs, toiletries and cleaning materials.  Although Jim had of necessity made a reasonable effort while living on his own, Blair frequently came up with better alternatives, for which Jim was very grateful.  It helped that Blair both enjoyed and was good at cooking, so the pair ate well also even if Jim did occasionally succumb to the temptation of a Wonderburger with everything.  Blair did accept, however, that his idea of cleaning was never going to be up to sentinel standards, so he just did his best and left Jim to finish off to his satisfaction.

As time passed, they also found that, not only did they embrace bonding and love-making with mutual enthusiasm, but they truly enjoyed each other’s company also, both liking nothing better than to curl up together on the sofa of an evening with a beer and a bowl of popcorn to spend a relaxing few hours in front of the TV, either watching a movie or a Jags game.  Jim even found that he enjoyed Blair’s natural history programmes on occasion, although it didn’t do for him to appear too eager.  And if he didn’t take in every word of Blair’s eagerly offered mini lectures and anecdotes, he truly appreciated the soothing effects of his guide’s mellow voice as it washed over him.  They had also begun to socialise more with their friends from the PD, amongst other things becoming regular players and hosts at the frequent poker nights.  However, since Blair regularly cleaned up at these sessions, it was a good job he was so likeable and popular otherwise he might have worn out his welcome rather quickly.

And if Blair was no longer able to socialise with his friends from Rainier, he didn’t dwell on it, accepting, if with some predictable resignation, that that chapter in his life was closed, at least for the time being.  Whether he would eventually be able to return to academia in some form remained to be seen.  He had a few ideas, but for now he was fully engaged in his new life as guide to his sentinel and Jim’s lover and life mate, and that had to be enough.

For the most part, at work they were doing more than satisfactorily, their partnership and teamwork improving by leaps and bounds.  Although Blair had already made a favourable impression on his colleagues with the quality of his work thus far, now it was even more appreciated.  It was natural for the young man to apply 100% effort to whatever task he set himself, and that had been the case even in the early days in the department.  But now he was assured of the love and support of his sentinel, he tackled every aspect with a light heart and genuine enthusiasm, absorbing police procedures and IT demands like the proverbial sponge.  A talented researcher, the anthropologist was able to produce rapid and comprehensive results; his agile and intuitive brain frequently able to analyse the same to arrive at unexpected and more often than not, correct conclusions.  As word spread of his prowess, he was frequently asked to lend a hand in other departments, although only when Jim could spare him.

And as a fast and accurate typist, he had willingly taken over responsibility for Jim’s reports, for which the cop was more than grateful, as was his captain.

Out in the field, Jim had cause to both welcome and resent the necessity for his guide’s presence.  True, he greatly appreciated having Blair close.  As a companion he was a delight, and as a team they were well-nigh unstoppable.  Jim’s arrest and conviction record was better than ever, and as a super-forensics resource the whole PD had cause to rejoice in them.  But Jim also hated the fact that having Blair at his side put the young man in danger, and it was inevitable that, even with the sentinel’s protective instincts, the guide did occasionally get hurt.  Certainly he had been lucky so far, his injuries no more than superficial and uncomfortable, such as the bruising and sprained wrist sustained when a perp managed to push him down a flight of stairs, but he had also been in the line of fire in several shoot-outs, and inevitably Jim would respond by going into hyper-protective mode.

Having said that, in the aftermath of any such incident, Blair was always at pains to sooth and placate him, assuring him that he, Blair, was where he wanted to be.  Where he was meant to be, and he was content with his choice.

“Jim, man, please don’t.  I mean, I know it’s natural for you to worry about me – an instinctive need to keep the guide safe. But I’m where I choose to be, man.  You need me to help you use your senses to their fullest extent for the sake of the tribe.  And I trust you to protect me.  I do.  OK, I admit I get scared sometimes.  I’d be lying if I denied it and you’d be able to tell anyway so what would be the point?  But you do look out for me, and you care for me.  What more could I ask?  Except that you let me do the same for you.  Together, man.  Always.”  And there really wasn’t anything Jim could say in the face of such love and trust.

Unfortunately, despite their successes, as they had anticipated Simon’s words of warning were right on the nail.  Although since their bonding they had tried to keep PDAs down to a minimum in deference to their work environment and their colleagues’ sensibilities, the normal ‘touchy-feely’ nature of sentinel and guide relationships required frequent contact.  Whereas the majority of the personnel in the PD quickly accepted their constant touching as the norm, those disposed to dislike them were only too happy to deliberately misconstrue what they saw as blatant homosexual behaviour, especially as the two were now so obviously in tune with each other.  Even so, thus far this mean-spirited intolerance had only manifested in sneers and nasty innuendo, mostly uttered out of earshot of the sentinel, although Blair’s empathy allowed him to identify those individuals less than sympathetic to him and his partner.

However, with the constant backing of their friends and colleagues, Jim and Blair were able to dismiss such unpleasantness with indifference for the most part, until a potentially disastrous incident brought it home to them and their supporters just how deep the prejudice went.

\------------------------------------

Whilst out on a routine fact-finding mission one morning, Jim and Blair were strolling past a branch of the Bank of America situated in a relatively quiet area; when they both instinctively realised that something was amiss.  Exchanging a knowing glance, Blair quickly pressed a warm hand against Jim’s back, grounding him so that he could reach out with his senses and assess the situation within.  Within moments, he had ascertained that there was indeed a robbery in progress, and the three perps were armed and undoubtedly dangerous.

Turning to his guide, Jim relayed the information succinctly.  “There are at least three gunmen, Chief, and by the sound of it, they have about a dozen hostages, two of which I believe are children.  They’re getting frustrated and panicky because the manager’s insisting he can’t open the safe for some reason or other.  Sounds like the bank guard’s out of action also.  I can smell blood, but not as much as I’d expect if someone had been shot.

“Call it in, Chief, and ask for back-up.  I’m going in for a closer look...”

“Not without me, Jim!  Wait a moment and I’ll go with you.  You’ll need me man!”  Lips thinned in frustration even though he couldn’t fault his partner’s determined response or his logic, Jim nodded briskly.  “OK, Chief, but hurry!” and Blair did as he was bid.  As soon as the despatcher acknowledged the call, the pair moved swiftly to the narrow and deeply shadowed alley beside the bank building, Jim flattening himself against the wall as he drew his weapon and pushed Blair behind him.  Sidling up so he could peek through the small side window next to the emergency exit, he took a quick look and murmured, “Call Simon, Blair.  Tell him exactly what I say, OK?  I think these guys are the ones Megan and Joel have been trying to track down – the ones who’ve been robbing banks from Seattle to Cascade over the last year. They need to be in on this.”

As Jim relayed information about the number of robbers, the number and condition of their hostages and their location within the building, Blair passed it on to Simon and awaited his instructions.

“OK, Sandburg.  Tell Jim that Megan and Joel are on their way, so unless you have no option, you and Ellison wait for them.  There should be a couple of units arriving any time now to close off the street and an ambulance is already on its way, but whatever you do, don’t try and go it alone, OK?  I’m alerting the SWAT team now.”

“Understood, Captain.  I’ll keep the line open.” Knowing that the sentinel would have heard both sides of the exchange, Blair didn’t bother to repeat anything, just waited for Jim’s response.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to hold off much longer, Chief.  Not if we want to get those hostages out alive.  The perps are getting angry now and trigger-happy.  One of them’s saying that they’ll start shooting if the manager doesn’t get his act together.  Trouble is, I don’t think he can.  He’s trying to explain.  It sounds as if the safe’s a new model – opens on a timer that can’t be over-ridden by the manager alone as an additional security measure.  I don’t think they were expecting it.  Their info’s out of date and they’ve got a problem.

“Shit!  One of them’s just shot the manager!  We’ve got to go in, Chief.  Where the fuck are those units?”

Just then a squeal of brakes at the intersection of the street heralded the arrival of Megan and Joel, who climbed out of the vehicle and moved quickly but cautiously towards the alley where Jim and Blair were crouched, their guns at the ready and on the alert for trouble. And then all hell broke loose.

With barely a second to push Blair further behind him, Jim shouted a warning.  “They’re coming out!” and he rose to his feet, covering the side exit through which the perps were attempting to make their getaway.  As the three burst through the door, Jim took aim, yelling “Freeze!  Cascade PD!”  Unsurprisingly, none of them obeyed his instructions and kept moving, so Jim took the leader down even as the second man dived to the ground, firing simultaneously as Jim got off his second shot.  The robber’s bullet went wide, but ricocheted off the alley wall, and caught Blair in the forearm, leaving a superficial but bloody streak in its wake.  Momentarily distracted by Blair’s involuntary gasp of pain and the scent of his guide’s blood, Jim was left open and unguarded for a split second in the third robber’s sights, except that he was beaten to it by a well-placed shot in the right shoulder by Megan, who appeared in the entrance to the alley, gun in hand and looking like an avenging angel as she took in the scene.

With his two associates out of action, the second robber roared in vengeful fury, rising to his feet as he deliberately aimed at Megan, and that was the last thing he ever did.  Whereas Jim had fired to disable in the first instance, this time he took the kill shot unerringly, coldly furious at the injury to his lover, and the threat to his colleague.  The perp went down, shot cleanly through the left eye, and it was all over.

The two injured robbers had already been cuffed and read their rights, and Blair, ignoring his injury, was inside calming the hostages and tending to the wounded bank manager when the patrol units finally appeared, pulling up behind the newly-arrived pair of ambulances and closely followed by Simon’s sedan.

And as the big captain approached the scene, it was obvious that he was fuming.  With barely a nod of acknowledgement for his detectives, he stormed instead up to the uniforms who had just emerged from their vehicles, and laid into them before they could utter a word.

“Where the fuck were you?  I know damned well what your response time should have been, and this was a joke!  Care to explain what you were doing?  Stopping for a doughnut, perhaps?  I’ll be seeing your watch commander as soon as I get back, and I want a full explanation from each and every one of you!”

Leaving the four men red-faced and spluttering in indignation and no little anxiety behind him, he swung around and strode back to his detectives, his customary unlit cigar nearly bitten in half in his fury.

“Is Sandburg OK?  I gather he was shot!  Where is he?”  Since Jim was still here, even though plainly livid and almost vibrating with impatience, Simon realised that the young man couldn’t have been badly hurt, but it was equally plain that the sentinel needed to check up on his guide.

“Go, Jim.  See to your guide, and I’ll see you back in the office when the clean-up’s done.  And you two also,” he continued, addressing Megan and Joel.

“You all did a good job, but there’s something very wrong here, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.  We need to talk.”

\--------------------------------------------

**Later that morning, Simon Banks’ office:**

From his position behind his desk, Simon studied the four figures seated before him, a frown between his brows as he read their body language and expressions, his leader’s perspicacity swiftly assessing their individual states of mind before he continued with their discussion.  Although outwardly relaxed, Joel Taggart’s normally genial expression had been replaced temporarily by one of anger and concern, and Simon knew from experience that it was all on behalf of his team mates rather than himself.  His partner, Megan Connor almost crackled with energy, her fingers tapping restlessly on her knee as she met his gaze, offering him a brief grin before turning her attention back to the other two figures pressed closely together on the other side of the small room, and Banks knew that her concern was also focussed mainly on the smaller of the two men.

With his guide tucked so tightly against him that the smaller man was almost in his lap, Jim Ellison’s ice-blue gaze was stony and forbidding, his expression betraying the barely-controlled rage that made the muscles of his jaw jump and twitch as he ground his teeth together.  Simon was well aware that it was only Blair’s calming influence that was keeping a lid on the detective’s simmering fury; otherwise it was highly likely that the man would be elsewhere in the building by now, tearing certain of his so-called brothers in blue limb from limb.

As for Sandburg himself, the kid was unnaturally pale, and his eyes were still wide with shock and delayed reaction, but he was holding it together remarkably well, concentrating on soothing the almost feral sentinel clinging so possessively to him.  His wound had been treated by the EMTs at the scene, and had only required stera-strips to close the deepest section of the bullet’s graze rather than stitches, plus a large gauze dressing from wrist to elbow, so he had proclaimed himself perfectly fit and able to return to the PD with Jim.

Nodding in grim satisfaction, Simon deemed it propitious to continue and bring his people up to speed with what he had learned thus far.

As standard procedure following a shooting, Jim and Megan had handed in their weapons until Internal Affairs had completed their investigation, but Simon had already assured them that it was highly unlikely that it would be considered anything other than a righteous shoot, and they would be back in the field very quickly.  The two injured perps were stable in hospital, and awaiting release into police custody for questioning by Megan and Joel and undoubtedly by representatives from Seattle PD also.  The bank manager was going to live, the guard had already been released after treatment, and all the hostages were unharmed.  In other words, it should have been cause for celebration that dangerous repeat offenders had been apprehended with only one minor casualty amongst the good guys.

Instead, however, there was the ugly spectre of deliberately withheld backup on the part of the units despatched to the scene, and each person present was well aware of the reason why.

The problem, however, was proving intent, and that was what Simon needed to discuss.

“You still OK, Blair?”  Simon couldn’t quite disguise his genuine concern for the young man who had managed to get under his skin despite his unfavourable first impression.  When the young man offered him a small smile of reassurance, he nodded in satisfaction and continued.   

“OK, people.  This is what I’ve just learned, and I’m not happy, as I’m sure you won’t be either.  I’ve spoken to the patrolmen’s watch commander, and unsurprisingly he’s standing by his men.  He doesn’t believe that there was any malicious intent behind the units’ tardiness, even though the despatcher on duty has confirmed the time when the call went out.  Apparently the men are claiming that they were delayed by heavy traffic and congestion due to a series of fender-benders in the vicinity of the bank, and to be fair, there’s some truth in the claim.  There were a couple of minor accidents which could conceivably have delayed their progress, but even so, it shouldn’t have taken them that long to negotiate the snarl-up, so it’s a pitiful excuse at best, particularly in view of the fact that the ambulances managed to get through OK.

“On the other hand, although the watch commander is aware of the negative opinions some of his people hold against Jim and Blair, he denies that it is anything more than hot air that they’re perfectly entitled to express in private, and doesn’t believe it would affect their performance as dedicated and professional cops.  Which is, of course where we beg to differ.  In my opinion, as much as I hate to admit it, this incident is proof that a dangerous level of bigotry and intolerance is alive and well in the PD whether we like it or not, but how do we convince TPTB that it’s something that needs rooting out, and fast?

“Any ideas, people?  Jim?”

The look that his subordinate turned on him was almost enough to make him shudder in disquiet, so cold and deadly was it, but seconds later Jim Ellison had forcibly dragged himself back from primal sentinel mode, and spoke with a soft but compelling intensity.  As Blair fixed him with a look of profound love and encouragement, he began.

“You’re right, sir.  It does exist, and I’m sorrier than I can say that it has spread to such an extent that it has endangered our friends and colleagues, and even worse, innocent civilians also.  Blair and I have been aware of the undercurrents ever since he joined me here, but we’ve always kept our eyes and ears open, and kept as low a profile as possible in deference to your warning, and in the hope that we could keep it contained.  We both knew the nature of our relationship had the potential to fuel the misconceptions of a few major assholes, and now I know some of those to blame.”

At Simon’s openly quizzical look, and aware of both Megan and Joel’s rapt attention, he offered a small, sardonic grin as he continued.

“Yeah, it’s true, except that I have nothing but my word against theirs.  Thing is, when we arrived at the PD that first day, I overheard a pretty horrible conversation about Blair in particular.  It shook me so much that I made a unilateral decision there and then to distance myself from him to try and both keep him safe and quell the rumours, which only led to my hurting him badly.  Myself also.”  His explanation was mostly for the benefit of Megan and Joel, since he had already ‘fessed up to Simon, and Blair now knew exactly where he was coming from.

“As a sentinel, I have pretty near perfect recall of voices, faces, incidents – whatever.  And having heard that conversation, I know I’ll never forget those voices, or the disgusting words they spewed out.

“And today I heard them again, and can put names to at least two of them.  Sergeant Bernie Mulholland was one of them, and his partner, Officer Milo Milligan was another.  They were in the first patrol unit, and I overheard them muttering to each other after you tackled them, Captain.  And I suspect that one of the other patrolmen in the second unit could have been the third voice I overheard.  If I could hear them speak again, I could confirm it.  To my satisfaction, at least.

“But none of that would be acceptable in a court of law or to IA, I know, without more concrete evidence.  So where does that leave us?”

“Blimey, Jimbo!  I had no idea things were so bad, mate.  No wonder you were so awful to Sandy for a while.  I still can’t condone it, but I do understand better now.  Bloody hell, I’m so mad I could spit nails!”  Megan’s comment elicited a tiny huff of amusement from Blair, and a rueful grin from Jim, both of whom appreciated both her candour as well as her unqualified support.

Joel’s response was more restrained, but no less genuine for all that.  “I’m sorry also, Jim.  I had no idea either about the full extent of the disgusting spite you have both had to endure; and I admit that I too had less than charitable feelings towards you, Jim, while you were giving Blair such a hard time.  But you’re right.  Even identifying some of the culprits doesn’t help, unless they’re literally caught in the act of doing something to endanger either their fellow cops or innocent bystanders.  And I’m thinking that they’re going to be both more circumspect now, as well as more resentful.

“I’ve a feeling that you’re going to have to watch your backs much more assiduously, guys.  And we’re all going to have to be more alert also.”

Nodding his assent, Simon was about to respond when Blair beat him to it, voice shy and quiet but steady even as he glanced apologetically at his bemused partner.

“Um, I’ve been thinking, sir, and I believe it can be done.  I have an idea…” and he looked hopefully around him, mutely asking for his friends’ patience and support.

Offering him a small smile of encouragement, Simon nodded again.  “Go ahead, kid.  We’re all ears….”

\-------------------------------------------

**Part 6:  A Surgical Strike:**

**Late afternoon, the loft:**

“Jim, man, please?  I know you’re not happy about this, but I trust you, man.  This can work.  Please don’t shut me out!” As Blair entered the loft, he turned to face his beloved sentinel, a pleading, uncontrived puppy dog expression on his face as he reached out to his irate partner.  Jim’s back and shoulders were ramrod straight and stiff with overt indignation and tightly-controlled anger; an anger that had simmered ever since Blair had outlined his plan in Captain Banks’ office.   Blair almost wept in disappointed resignation and frustration as Jim’s steely blue eyes met his, the firm jaw clenched in a conscious effort not to yell at his foolish, but oh-so-brave guide.  And in truth Jim was a hair’s breadth away from shaking the smaller man until his teeth rattled, just to shake some sense into that beautiful head.  But he’d already tried that, and it had backfired on him and hurt his guide, and that made him angrier still, but with himself.

However, when he really looked into his guide’s wide blue eyes, he was totally disarmed by the depth of love and devotion therein, the young man’s desperate need for his sentinel’s approval plain to see.

Finally succumbing to Blair’s mute supplication, with a deep sigh Jim consciously relaxed his rigid stance and let his own love and care bleed into his expression as he reached for his guide.

“OK.  OK, Chief!  It’s OK, babe.  I’m not mad anymore.  Well, yes I am, but I accept where you’re coming from.  I don’t have to like it, but I do understand.  It’s just that I’m having a huge problem here about letting you put yourself into danger.  It’s just –I don’t know – unbearable?”

Rubbing both hands soothingly up and down his sentinel’s upper arms, Blair did his best to project his own understanding as well as his conviction that this was the only way forward.

“I know, Jim.  I understand where you’re coming from too. I do, really!  But we need to finish this now so that you can get on with your life and your job, and I need you to back me up here!  It can’t work without your blessing, lover.  The tribe needs its sentinel, and I need you to believe in me!”

And there was nothing Jim could say in the face of that heart-felt plea.  He wasn’t happy, but he was committed.  His guide had appealed for his support, and he had to provide it, come what may.

\------------------------------------------------

**Previously, Simon’s office:**

“……I have an idea….”  Blair sighed inwardly with relief when Captain Banks hadn’t shut him down immediately, although he was understandably nervous about how his next words were going to be received, especially by Jim.  But he was convinced that he was right, and was prepared to use all his powers of persuasion to win his audience over.

“I know I haven’t heard all the sick stuff that Jim has had to put up with, but as an empath I can tell immediately when people react negatively towards us, and I need you to understand that most of that negativity is directed at me personally, not Jim.  It’s true, Jim,” he continued, turning to face his partner at Jim’s exclamation of disbelief.  “I’ve never really told you everything about what I can feel, not because I was deliberately hiding it from you, but I didn’t think it was important enough to trouble you with,” and he fixed his mate with a look that begged for understanding before turning back to address the others again.  “Anyway, I believe that those guys who hate our relationship for whatever reason; be it homophobia, racism, jealousy, or just because I look weird; they would have nothing to fuel their hatred if I wasn’t around anymore.  I believe they think in terms of a good cop – one of their own – being seduced somehow by a little fag, and if the little fag was to disappear, he’d be back to normal soon enough.  The sentinel/guide bond means nothing to them because they’ve never experienced one before, and as far as they’re concerned, my presence is insulting and unnecessary.  And although I hate to say it, with individuals who are that narrow-minded and intolerant, they’re never going to change their attitudes or beliefs even in the face of indisputable proof, let alone reasonable argument.

“I’m thinking that there’s nothing they’d like better than to scare me off, but because we’re always together, they’ve never had the chance.  So I want to give them one.  I want to set up a situation where they can get me on my own.  If I was to wear a wire so they could be caught on tape threatening me, and Jim was close by so he could move in with backup as soon as they made a move on me, we’d catch them red-handed, so to speak.  We’d just need to make the set-up really convincing--”

“Are you out of your mind?  No way!  There’s no _way_ I’m allowing you to do such a crazy thing, Chief!”  Jim’s furious outburst took them all by surprise as he grabbed Blair and hauled him bodily around to face him, red-faced in incredulous indignation.   The next moment they all spoke at once.

“Give it up, Jimbo!  Let Sandy go!  You’re hurting him!” Megan’s voice was furious as she prepared to leap to Blair’s rescue.

“Steady on, Jim!  That’s enough!”  Equally concerned, Joel was reaching out to pull Jim’s hand away from Blair’s injured arm when Simon barked furiously, “Stand down, Ellison!  Enough of the caveman shit, or I’ll cuff you myself!”

His rage dying as quickly as it had arisen in the face of his colleagues’ collective reproach, Jim abruptly realised that he was gripping Blair’s forearm hard enough to bring tears of pain to his guide’s eyes, and he released the injured limb as if it burned him.

“Oh shit, Chief!  I’m sorry, babe.  Let me see?” and he cupped Blair’s face in both hands as he anxiously studied the pained blue eyes, his own remorse clearly visible to all present.

Determinedly fighting the urge to cry, Blair blinked back his tears as he swallowed hard, knowing that Jim hadn’t meant to hurt him and wanting to reassure his friends that Jim’s extreme reaction was due to his love for his guide and his need to protect; not done with any intent to punish.

“It’s OK, Jim.  Honestly.  Don’t worry…” and he dutifully held out his arm for Jim’s inspection.  Unfortunately, as Jim carefully pushed up Blair’s sleeve to inspect the damage, it was obvious to all that the wound had reopened and fresh blood dotted the bandages.  It was only a small amount, however, and Blair spoke up again, needing to defuse the situation before tempers deteriorated further.

“It’s fine, Jim.  When we get home you can change the dressing, and no harm done.  But I’d still like to discuss my plan,” he added firmly, holding Jim’s gaze unflinchingly, his determination unwittingly earning his colleagues’ approval even as Jim found himself forced to back down, albeit with bad grace.

Regarding the smaller man with a new respect, Banks spoke again.  “Well, I for one think the idea may have some merit, so how about we all settle down and talk this through.  And that means you too, Ellison!”  And Jim had had no option but to obey.

Over the course of the next hour or so, they thrashed out the bare bones of a workable scenario, although Simon was mindful of the possibility of some canny defence attorney bringing up the question of entrapment, and vetoed some of the more inventive suggestions on those grounds.  And throughout the whole time, Jim looked on in surly silence, only contributing to the discussion when required, and then with marked reluctance.  In truth, he was as much resentful as concerned, although he couldn’t have said whether the resentment was directed at his colleagues personally for taking his guide seriously and actively encouraging him in this madness, or whether it was simply on account of the set of circumstances that made the operation necessary at all.

In its simplest form, the plan was straight-forward enough, and wouldn’t require the involvement of too many individuals – a necessary if distasteful decision taken to reduce the chance of a leak reaching the wrong ears.  Jim and Blair would stage a convincing argument within earshot of known gossips, who, even if they had no actual affiliation with the suspects, would have no problem passing on the information anyhow.  Blair would storm off, declaring that he could get his own evidence, thank you very much, and leave the building alone later in the day to make his way to a chosen location, there to meet with a fictitious informant.  Forearmed with the knowledge of the suspects’ shift rota and patrol routes, he would make a faked call for assistance unless the bad guys had followed him already, and then wait for them to arrive.  In the meantime, Jim and his colleagues would be hiding nearby, ready and waiting to move in at the first sign of trouble, but hopefully not before Blair had had a chance to record any incriminating threats.

Of course, if the responding units were the genuine article, then Blair would have to bullshit his way out of a potentially embarrassing situation, and they would be back to square one, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

And despite everything, although noticeably anxious, Blair was bound and determined to act as bait, and Jim hated it.

\-------------------------------------

**Later that night, the loft:**

Upstairs in their big bed, Jim leaned back against the headboard, propped up by pillows.  Settled comfortably between his spread thighs, Blair rested against him, his back warm against Jim’s bare chest, cradled in his sentinel’s protective embrace as he drifted towards welcome sleep.  Despite their prolonged and intense bonding and love-making session, Jim remained alert, the sentinel standing watch over his guide, the need to protect uppermost in his mind.  As Blair’s respiration evened out, and his curly head grew heavier against Jim’s shoulder as he relaxed, Jim savoured the closeness, taking the opportunity to scan his partner minutely to the satisfaction of all his senses.

Naked in his arms, Blair was a sensory delight, his relaxed weight, warmth and physical presence reassuring to the sentinel’s most basic needs, and satisfying to Jim the lover also.  The young man’s delicious personal scent was overlaid by the smell of herbal shampoo, soap and musk, the scent of their recent sex tickling Jim’s sensitive nostrils and triggering a new curl of heated lust in his belly and groin.  Smiling gently as he recalled their unfettered passion, he knew himself to be sincerely grateful to have found such an accommodating lover; someone who satisfied him completely such as he’d never hoped or expected to find.  Blair was truly the other half of himself, complementing him and rescuing him from a life of self-imposed loneliness. 

And the best of it was that he knew he was doing the same for Blair.  Despite the younger man’s cheerful and outwardly confident persona, inside Jim discovered a deep insecurity and lack of self-esteem.  It was incomprehensible to Jim how a gentle and loving soul could have been so badly damaged by his unconventional upbringing, but the fact remained that it had happened, and Jim resolved that he would do everything in his power to rectify the situation.  Thrown together so unexpectedly, yet Blair was doing his utmost to make the best of things, loving and caring for his sentinel and partner unconditionally, and Jim was bound and determined to reciprocate.

But first they had to deal with the very real threat posed by deep-rooted internal prejudice, and he was fully committed to tackling the problem even if he still didn’t like the way his guide and his colleagues had chosen to do it.  Looking down, he studied his own hand as it cradled Blair’s freshly-bandaged forearm.  His touch sentinel-soft now, he swallowed down the pang of guilt that struck him anew as he recalled the painful consequences of his unintentionally powerful grip.  True, he was mortified at having inadvertently caused Blair such hurt, but he was also conscious of the fact that it served him better to concentrate his anger and his focus on bringing to justice those whose conduct had led to the injury in the first place, even if indirectly.

With that thought uppermost in his mind, he settled down to watch over his precious armful for the remainder of the night.

\--------------------------------------

**Several days later, Cascade PD parking garage:**

Jim’s jeep pulled in to its usual spot with an impatient screech of brakes, closely followed by Blair’s old Corvair, which pulled in nearby.  This in itself was an aberration, since the pair normally arrived together in the same vehicle, and to the amusement of the group of uniformed cops standing around waiting for the elevators, an unexpected and entertaining scene began to play out.  Slamming his car door with unnecessary force, Blair Sandburg almost ran around to where Jim was pulling himself out of the jeep, eyes flashing with uncharacteristic fire as he addressed his equally angry-looking partner, plainly carrying on a running argument.

In a furious but deliberately repressed tone which still carried easily to the other cops’ eager ears, he hissed, “I’m telling you, Ellison, I’m going alone!  He’s _my_ snitch, and he won’t talk to a cop!  It’s me or nothing, man, and I’m not letting this opportunity to get some important information go just because you want the glory for yourself!”

Unsurprisingly, Jim wasn’t about to take this comment lying down, so he rounded on the smaller man, towering threateningly over him as he growled, “Forget it, kid!  You don’t go anywhere without me; you don’t talk to informants on your own; and YOU’RE NOT A COP!”  These last words were almost yelled, and the watching officers sniggered, expecting the little fag to submit.  But no.  Far from it, Sandburg reared back and shouted, “Get over yourself, Ellison!  You don’t tell me what to do, and you don’t own me!  I’m going to meet Barney whether you like it or not!” and he began to back towards the elevators, expressive hands waving in angry counterpoint to his words.

“No way in Hell, Sandburg!  You’re not going alone, if I have to cuff you to the desk myself!”

“Just try it, O Great Sentinel!  Police brutality applies to you too…”

By then, both men had reached the group beside the elevator doors, and both stopped talking abruptly, but continued to glare at each other until Blair turned his back on the others.  His folded arms and rigid shoulders repelled any attempt to touch or address him, and Jim’s clenched jaw and tightly-fisted hands bore witness to his own rage as he directed his icy glare at a point between the smaller man’s shoulder blades.   Unsurprisingly, when the elevator doors opened to admit Jim and Blair, none of the others got in with them, their sense of self-preservation kicking in in view of the big detective’s apparent desire to get physical, so the pair began the trip up to the MCU on their own.

As soon as the doors slid shut behind them, Blair’s shoulders slumped, his head drooped and he released his breath in a deep sigh.  As Jim’s warm hand wrapped comfortingly around his nape underneath his ponytail, he looked up to meet his partner’s concerned gaze, knowing that Jim would be able to detect the tremors running through his body at the adrenaline surge he had just experienced.

“Oh man!  That was something else!  Gods, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so stressed.  Do you think it worked, Jim?” and his tone was a little plaintive as he sought Jim’s approval and reassurance.

Offering his mate a wry grin, Jim replied, “I think that was an Oscar-winning performance, babe.  If that didn’t convince them that all is not right in our world, nothing will.  The hardest part will be carrying on the act in the bullpen though.  Do you think you’ll be able to do it?”

“Yeah, lover, I can if I have to, and we don’t really have a choice now do we?  At least Simon and our closest friends will know it’s a sham.  But I have to say, I think it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  I _hate_ yelling at you like that, man.  When I came up with this plan, I hadn’t considered how bad it would make me feel.  I’m sorry, Jim.  I just want to make sure you know I don’t mean a word?”

“I know, babe, and for what it’s worth I hate it too, but we’re committed now, and I’m pretty certain the news of our lover’s tiff will be spreading around the station as we speak.  But if you need reassurance, babe, you just have to ‘read’ me, and I can do the same by sensing your physiological reactions.  You’d be surprised how well I can discern your real emotions, if that’s any comfort to you.

“Anyway, heads up, babe.  We’re here.  Ready for another command performance?”  Releasing another shaky sigh, Blair grinned ruefully up at him as he breathed, “Encore!” and the doors slid open.

\---------------------------------------------

When the pair entered the bullpen, it was like a return to the first days of their partnership, with Jim scowling ferociously at all and sundry as he clutched his guide possessively to his side.  However, this time, Blair’s own expression was mutinous, and he angrily shrugged off Jim’s restraining arm as soon as they reached their desk.

“Get off me, man!  I’ve had it with the caveman routine.  Just leave me alone!” and he threw himself into his chair, refusing to meet Jim’s angry stare.

As the bullpen’s other occupants exchanged quizzical glances, Jim grunted in overt irritation and sat down also, growling in his throat as Blair pointedly shifted his chair away.  As the smaller man grabbed a stack of files and began to peruse them intently, deliberately shutting Jim out, Jim shot him an angry look muttering, “Have it your own way, Sandburg.  When you come to your senses, we’ll talk!”  When all Blair did was sniff derisively, he pushed his chair away and strode purposefully over to Simon’s office, apparently seething with frustrated ire. 

Knocking sharply on his boss’ door, he pushed it open at the brusque command to enter, and stalked over to Simon’s desk after shutting the door behind him.  However, once Simon had closed the blinds, he slumped in his seat and fixed Simon with a rueful look.

“I take it things are going well – or rather, not?” the bigger man murmured, his eyebrow quirking inquisitively as he studied his senior detective.

“Yeah, Captain.  I think we’ve sown the seeds of mutual dissent as far as the patrolmen are concerned, but damn, it’s hard!  I’m in awe of Blair’s acting ability, I have to say.  Kid should be treading the boards.  But it’s nearly killing him to act like a smart-mouthed brat, and I can’t say I’m enjoying reverting to a controlling, anal-retentive asshole either.  Just hope the effort’s worth it at the end of the day.”

“I hear you, Jim, and for what it’s worth, I’m convinced it’ll work, but it’s got to be hard, the two of you being so close.  Having said that, perhaps if you both maintain a surly silence until it’s time for Blair to leave?  At least you won’t be yelling at each other, and it’ll be easier on the others out there.  Just a thought.

“Anyhow, Megan and Joel will be leaving the office later in the morning to get into position, and H and Rafe will leave at lunchtime.  If you march out in high dudgeon around 1300 hours, that should give Blair adequate time to storm out on his own and set off for the warehouse.  Sound good to you?”

Grinning more naturally now, Jim replied, “Did you really say ‘dudgeon’, Simon?  You sure that’s a word?”

“Oh, can it, _Detective!_   Ask your partner – he’ll tell you!” and both men shared a moment of genuine enjoyment before the seriousness of the upcoming exercise sobered them again.

“It’ll be OK, Jim.  Trust Sandburg,” and Jim nodded silently as he rose to leave the office, face once more assuming an expression of cold anger for the benefit of the bullpen personnel.

\----------------------------------

While Jim had been ensconced with Simon, Megan approached Blair, for all the world as if she wanted to comfort him.  Perching a hip on the corner of his desk, she caught his eye, and offered a tiny conspiratorial wink before saying out loud, “Are you OK, Sandy?  What’s that big drongo done now?”

“Just being an asshole, Megs,” Blair muttered, lush lips pulled down in an uncharacteristic grimace.  “Says I can’t meet my new informant on my own.  As if I was a kid needing to be chaperoned!  Well, I told him it ain’t happening.  My snitch is my snitch, and I’ll meet him when and where I like!”  He had deliberately allowed his voice to rise, underlining his indignation and projecting an unexpected rebellious streak.

“Good on you, Sandy!  Don’t let the bugger dictate to you!  Anyhow, just wanted to check on you before me and Joel hit Cascade’s mean streets.  Got a few leads to follow up on.  See you later?”

And at Blair’s slightly happier-looking nod, she grinned and moved away, winking surreptitiously at Joel this time, letting him know all was going to plan so far.

The next few hours dragged by, with Jim and Blair studiously ignoring each other as they tackled the mountain of paperwork in Jim’s in-tray.  As expected, Megan and Joel left at around 1100 hours, but not before making a point of glaring in Jim’s direction, and Rafe and H left about an hour later, both looking as if they were too embarrassed to approach the silent pair.

For any interested onlookers, Blair appeared to be totally fixated on his computer screen, while Jim glanced at him periodically with a scowl that would have sent many a hardened criminal running away screaming.  Not a word had passed between them since their acrimonious arrival, and everyone in the vicinity was braced for the overdue eruption of Mt Ellison.

They didn’t have to wait for too much longer.

Throwing the form he was reading down on his desk and shoving his chair violently back, Jim stood, fists clenched as he snarled at his suddenly nervous partner.

“OK, if that’s the way you want it, Sandburg, that’s fine with me.  You want to be alone?  I can do that.  And when I get back, you’d better be ready with an apology!”

But the young man’s attractive features tightened in unexpected fury as he hissed in retaliation, “Screw you, Ellison!  When you get back, don’t expect me to be here!” and he turned back to his computer, rudely shutting his partner out.

Looking for a tense moment as if he might actually punch his guide, Ellison whirled around and stormed out of the office without another word, leaving a now worried-looking Blair following his retreat.  However, with a put-upon sigh, he turned back to his report, needing to give Jim and his colleagues a little more time to get into position.  As the remaining MCU personnel moved around him, carefully giving him a wide berth, he carried on working for a while longer, before standing up and muttering to no one in particular, “I’m out of here!”  Grabbing his coat, he marched out of the bullpen looking neither left nor right, face set in a mutinous pout although inside his belly churned with nerves in anticipation of what was to come.

\------------------------------------

**Cascade docks, shortly afterwards:**

Hidden inside a dilapidated waterfront warehouse, Jim grinned ruefully at his two companions.  “Shoulda picked a warmer location for a trap, huh?” and he quirked an eyebrow at Megan’s disparaging snort. 

“Don’t know what you’re whingeing about, Jimbo.  Bet you can dial down your sense of touch so you don’t feel the cold anyway!  Davy used to crow about that, except that back home it was usually on account of the heat!”

Chuckling amiably, Joel simply pulled his scarf tighter around his neck.  “Shouldn’t be for too much longer, Megs, and I don’t suppose H and Rafe are much warmer.”

They all shared a grin when the whispered reply came back through their earpieces, “You got that right, Joel.   Sheesh! The things we do for Hairboy!”

H and Rafe, disguised as vagrants - much to Rafe’s disgust - were huddled in the shadows of one of the neighbouring warehouses, in an ideal position both to monitor Blair’s arrival, and warn of any approaching targets, in the unlikely event of Jim not picking up on them in advance.

Just then, Megan nudged Joel and nodded towards Jim, who had assumed a ‘listening’ pose, a slight grin lighting his face.  “Think we’re in business,” she whispered, and sure enough, a few seconds later H’s voice came through.

“Hairboy’s just arrived.  He’s going in….”

A side door creaked on its broken hinges, and Blair peeked in, eyes blinking in the gloom of the dimly-lit interior.  “Here I am, ready or not!” he whispered almost sub-vocally, his nervous bravado touching Jim, whose grin now became slightly pained.   Pushing the door further open, Blair slipped in, eyes wide as he rapidly took stock of his surroundings.  The abandoned warehouse was understandably filthy, its floor strewn with trash and piles of rusted and unrecognisable machine parts, broken pallets and packing cases, a sagging but closed door and broken window at the far end indicating what had once served as an office.  An office where Jim, Joel and Megan waited silently for the fun to begin.

“It’s OK, Chief, we’re all here,” Jim murmured into his mic, knowing that Blair would appreciate the information, not needing his own earpiece to hear Blair’s whispered but heart-felt reply.

“Good to know, big guy.  It’s really gross in here.  Spooky too…”

“Heads up, Chief.  We’ve got company!” Jim’s warning came seconds before H confirmed the arrival of two patrol units, which pulled up a short distance from the warehouse, disgorging four uniformed officers who looked around them furtively as they huddled together to make their plans.

“Won’t be needing to make that fake alarm call then,” Blair muttered shakily but determinedly.  “Here we go again!” and he turned to face the door, his anxiety gradually morphing to indignant anger as he waited to hear what his detractors had lined up as his punishment.

Outside, the cops’ conversation was quiet but heated, and Jim had no trouble hearing every word.  And it made him feel sick to his stomach.  He easily identified three of the four voices as belonging to Sgt Mulholland, Officer Milligan, and their other main crony, Officer Grogan.  Grogan had indeed been present at the bank debacle, and Jim had confirmed his voice as the third speaker in that earlier sick exchange he remembered so well.  On the other hand, the fourth patrolman was unknown to him, and it sounded as if he was less than happy with his colleagues’ intentions.

Not unhappy enough to shop them, though, and in Jim’s opinion, merely refusing to take part was no better than aiding and abetting.

Teeth gritted in mounting rage, he concentrated on the short debate, consoling himself with the thought that, even if only some of their intentions were recorded through Blair’s wire, it would be enough to get them kicked off the force at minimum.  It was also possible that his evidence given under oath as a sentinel could result in that much at least.

And if their punishment ultimately failed to satisfy Jim, there was always sentinel justice to fall back on, but Blair didn’t need to know about that.

Sgt Mulholland: “So, we’re agreed then?  We confront the little bastard, find out what he’s supposed to be doing in there, then take him down.”

Officer Milligan: “We’ll have to take care of his snitch too.  You got a problem with that?”

Sgt Mulholland:  “’Course not.  Can’t leave any witnesses after all, especially if we want some fun with the little fag first.”

Fourth voice: “But why do you have to get rid of him?  Surely it’ll be enough to rough him up a bit – threaten him with getting Ellison hurt?  Why go so far?”

Officer Grogan: “Because there’s too many bleeding-heart types who’re looking out for him.  We need to get rid of him permanently before he corrupts the PD even more.  Ellison’ll thank us for it in time.  And I’ve been wanting to find out just how ‘special’ he is for a long time now.”

Coarse laughter ensued, except from the fourth guy, who muttered, “Well, I don’t like it.  I thought you were just going to frighten him off, not rape and kill him.  I don’t want anything to do with that stuff, but you don’t have to worry about me.  I’ll just stay out here, and I can warn you if anyone comes, OK?”

Sgt Mulholland:  “Have it your own way, Chu.  Didn’t have you figured for being squeamish, but you don’t know what you’re missing.  Even I have to admit he’s really pretty, and man, that ass!  But you better be sure about keeping quiet.”  The threat was clear in his tone, and Chu was quick to reassure them all.

“Of course I’m sure!  Just don’t want to get involved, OK?  I’m not into that stuff.  I’ll wait out here…” and Jim heard his footsteps heading back towards his unit, even as he heard the other three approach the warehouse.

“Fun time!” he muttered, and a grim-faced Joel and Megan nodded briskly as they crouched down beside him, ready to move in.

Even though he was expecting it, Blair couldn’t quite contain his nervous start as the three cops shoved the door and shouldered their way in.

“Um, hi, guys.  What are you doing here?  I didn’t call for backup, man.  I mean, I’m supposed to meet a contact here, and he won’t show if he sees you guys.”

Mulholland sauntered up to Blair, his thumbs hooked in his belt as he crowded the younger man, deliberately using his few extra inches in height, and considerably greater bulk to intimidate his intended victim.

Swallowing compulsively, Blair instinctively stepped backwards, only to find his escape cut off by the other two, who had circled around behind him.  Although at this point Blair would have preferred the cavalry to arrive, all guns blazing, he knew he needed to record more evidence if possible, so he kept talking.

“Look, guys, if you have something to say, why don’t you just say it and leave me to get on with my meet?  Just what is your problem, man?”

Mulholland’s piggy eyes narrowed in spite as he sneered down at the smaller man before reaching out a pudgy hand to pat Blair’s face.

“Feisty little fuck, ain’t ya, _Guide Sandburg_ ” and he drew out the title, endowing it with as much derision and mockery as he could.

“See, we don’t like to see a good cop like Ellison fall under the spell of some pretty little fuck-toy just because the fuck-toy has some fancy education and so-called special guide qualities.  We know exactly what those special qualities are, fag-boy, and they’re all to do with what you can deliver on your back.  Or bending down.  You’re an insult to the PD – to all good cops – and a millstone around a good detective’s neck.  And it’s time for you to go.”

Blair spoke quickly, the desperation he felt bleeding into his voice as he almost babbled his response.

“Look, sergeant, you couldn’t be more wrong.  You know Jim’s a sentinel, and that means he needs a guide.  Specifically, he needs _me!_   I can’t leave him any more than he can leave me, don’t you see?  If you get rid of me, he’ll die too!  Maybe not right away, but it will happen.

“Just let it go, and I won’t say anything, OK?”

“Bullshit!”  Grogan’s furious rejoinder was loud in Blair’s ear.  “We’re not stupid enough to fall for fairy stories like that, fag-boy!  But I will say that Ellison’s got good taste in asses.  And fuckable mouths. So let’s cut to the chase and see just how ‘special’ you can be to us, huh?”

“Yeah,” Milligan chimed in.  “And if you’re _really_ special, we’ll kill you quickly when we’re done.  Can’t say fairer than that,” and he reached out to wrap his arms tightly around Blair’s torso, pinning the smaller man’s arms to his sides even as he tried to struggle and buck against the other twos’ suddenly groping hands.

“Get off me, you sick bastards!”  Blair cried out in fear and rage, before suddenly pulling up both knees towards his chest.  Shooting his legs out, he delivered a two-footed kick to Mulholland’s substantial paunch, shoving the older man backwards to land on his butt with a loud ‘oomph’ as the air was driven from his lungs.  Staggering backwards and unbalanced from the unexpected counterattack, Milligan released his captive, only to reach for his service weapon, growling in vengeful fury.  Things would have gone badly for Blair except that suddenly the area was filled with armed cops as Jim, Megan and Joel burst out of the office, and H and Rafe crashed simultaneously through the now completely shattered door.

“Freeze, Cascade PD!”  Jim’s harsh command was heavy with bitter sarcasm and a cold and deadly threat which reflected in his ice-blue gaze.  “Back off now, and hand over your weapons.  You’re done!”  Reaching out, he grabbed Blair’s sleeve and pulled his shaky guide to him, tucking him protectively behind his back as he maintained a steady grip on his 9mm service pistol.  As he would later confess, it was the hardest thing he had ever done to restrain himself from going in for the kill at the first touch to his guide, but he owed it to Blair to give him the best chance of gathering evidence against his attackers.

Wheezing noisily, Mulholland glared up at the newcomers, still unwilling to accept defeat even though his companions had already surrendered to the inevitable and handed off their weapons to a tight-lipped Megan.

Expression puzzled as well as angry, the sergeant looked from one to the other of the detectives surrounding him before locking eyes with Jim.

“Don’t you get it?” he gasped.  “We’re doing this for you, Ellison!  And the rest of you!  How can the citizens of Cascade respect a force that welcomes fags into its ranks?  Not even trained cops either!  That sentinel stuff’s just a bullshit excuse to parade your little fuck-toy around like he was something special.  Well, fuck that!  Makes me sick to my stomach!” and he spat in Blair’s direction even though the small figure was out of reach.

Although deeply hurt by the man’s vitriol, yet Blair still felt the need to try and get through to him.  Even though faced with hopeless prejudice, the teacher in him had to give it another shot.

“Man, I _told_ you it was more than you think.  The real sentinel and guide bond is for life.  We’re partners on a far deeper level than just the physical one that you hate so much.  Surely you’ve seen Jim working?  How brilliant he is when he’s using his senses to the full?  Well, he can do it because I’ve got his back, man.  Like I told you, he needs me as much as I need him.  And as more and more people get to recognise their worth, there’ll be more such true partnerships, I’m sure of it!”

“Then I hope I never live to see the day,” snarled the unrepentant man.  “The day that happens, I’ll know that this country has really gone to the dogs,” and he allowed H to haul him to his feet, but only to have the cuffs slapped on his wrists as the young detective read him his rights in a monotone, his normally cheerful face tight with disgust at what he had heard and seen that day.

With the three safely restrained, Jim holstered his pistol and pulled Blair back to him again, wrapping a comforting arm around his guide’s shoulders as he sought words of comfort.

“Don’t waste your time, babe.  Mulholland’s a lost cause, like his cronies.  You’ll never change their views, sad to say, and I suspect there are still others hiding within the ranks who feel the same way.  But hopefully, after they see the example we make of dangerous bigots like these, they’ll keep their opinions to themselves in future.  We can but hope.”

As the group trooped out of the warehouse and into the street, they were greeted by Simon, who had just arrived.  With his customary cigar clamped between his teeth and his hands buried in the pockets of his smart trench coat, he glowered at the three bound patrolmen, as disgusted as if they were something nasty he had accidentally stepped in.

After holding their defiant gazes for several long and uncomfortable moments, his eyes travelled to Blair, and he grinned ferociously as he addressed the young guide.  “You OK, kid?  Still got that wire safe?” and as Blair smiled and nodded cheerfully, patting his chest, Simon flicked a glance at the three prisoners, whose faces now bore a mixture of shock, anger and apprehension.

“Yep, it’s a good thing you were wired for your meet with that snitch, huh?  I’ll bet you caught some good stuff from these guys instead.  With evidence like that, I think they’ll be going away for a _long_ time.  Pity about the snitch, though…” and he winked surreptitiously at Jim and Blair as he turned away.

As the others took charge of transporting the prisoners, Blair glanced over to see Officer Chu already cuffed to the steering wheel of his unit, having been restrained by H and Rafe before the bust went down.  His face was a picture of shame and embarrassment, but before Blair could comment, Jim forestalled him.

“Don’t waste your sympathy on him, babe.  I know you always want to see the best in everyone, but he’s not worth it.  He might have shied away from actually hurting you, but he had every intention of covering up for his cronies, and in my book that’s almost as bad.  He’s still a disgrace to his uniform.”

Sighing deeply, Blair turned wide and sorrowful eyes up to meet Jim’s warm and sympathetic gaze.

“I know you’re right Jim, but it still hurts so much to realise that such people exist, and can get away with their cruelty more often than not.  It’s doubly unacceptable when they’re supposed to serve and protect.  To be the good guys.  They’re just the types that Naomi used to rail about all the time – probably still does – and I’m only grateful that I know now that there are many more good cops around than I used to think.  And that’s thanks to you, lover.  Working with you has opened my eyes to the real quality at work behind the ‘Thin Blue Line’.”  

“Hey, man!” he continued, eyes now alight with glee.  “That’d be a great topic for a diss, don’t you think?” and he chuckled at Jim’s mock groan and playful whap upside the head before they returned to their respective vehicles for the drive back to the PD.

\----------------------------------------

**That evening, the loft:**

Blair preceded Jim into the loft, shrugging out of his coat and turning to face his mate, desperate appeal in his eyes as he immediately started fumbling at the buttons on his shirt.  After a long and stressful day, the adrenaline that had kept him going was spent, and he needed to reconnect with his sentinel and lover at the most fundamental level.  Giving up on the buttons, he simply grasped the hem of both his shirt and undershirt and pulled them off over his head, hurrying bare-chested to where Jim stood watching avidly, his back to the closed door.

“Please, Jim.  Please, I need you!” he murmured, reaching out to tackle Jim’s shirt buttons with shaking fingers.  Grasping the busy hands in his own, Jim pressed them to his chest before lifting them to his lips to kiss the knuckles gently.  His eyes were just as heated but he wanted to do this right.   Although equally desperate for connection, he had no intention of risking any hurt to his smaller lover in the sort of rough coupling his inner sentinel demanded.

“Easy, babe.  I need you too, but not like this – not here where you could be hurt.  Let’s take it to the bedroom, love, and let me do this properly, for both of us,” and he pulled the smaller man into his embrace, rejoicing in the feel of the silky skin of Blair’s naked back under his eager fingertips.  He felt Blair nod urgently against his chest, and wrapping an arm around his guide’s waist, urged him up the stairs to the loft bedroom.

On reaching the top of the stairs, Blair reached for him again, but was again prevented from trying to undress his lover.  “It’ OK, babe.  I can do it quicker myself,” Jim told him with a grin which turned wickedly lecherous with his next words.  “By the time you’ve finished getting out of the rest of your clothes, I’ll be done!”

And that indeed was the case.  By the time Blair had struggled out of his uncooperative boots and socks, and yanked jeans and boxers down and off, Jim was already gloriously naked, and ready to love his guide to within an inch of his life.

Expression a combination of pleading, adoration and lust, Blair lay back on the bed, inviting Jim to straddle him.  The bigger man ran his hands up Blair’s flanks, stopping to thumb tempting nubs on the way to gently grasping a handful of silky curls on each side of his lover’s head.  Pausing for a moment to revel in the desire he read in the beautiful eyes and panting breaths, he slowly lowered his head to capture the lush mouth, breathing softly, “Mine.  My beloved.” Then all thought of talk ceased as he plundered the sweet cavern, lingering and exploring until Blair was moaning in his throat with need.  Pulling back regretfully, Jim took a moment to study Blair’s flushed skin and hooded eyes almost black with desire, the pupils dilated to almost eclipse the cerulean blue of his irises.  But both men were too desperate, their urgency to reconnect too great to delay, so that would have to suffice as foreplay this time around, and Jim reached for the tube of lube on the nightstand.

Quickly opening himself to Jim’s touch, Blair lay back as Jim prepared him.  “Hurry, man, please!  I need you so bad…” he moaned, but even in lust Jim refused to risk hurting his mate.  Having said that, he used the minimum time necessary to stretch his lover, his own self-control nearly gone when he slid into the hot passage with a gusty sigh of pure relief.  Blair groaned in welcome pleasure/pain, but neither could hold back, and soon they were moving together, their need to bond singing in their veins.  Within scant minutes they came together, the white-hot, healing flash of their bond bringing relief and satisfaction as they merged; once again complete.

When they had recovered enough, they made love again, but this time slowly, taking their time so that their joining was exquisite in its tenderness.  And in the aftermath, they lay together in a tangle of limbs, exhausted but reassured of their love for one another.

\---------------------------------------------------------

**Epilogue: 6 months later, MCU bullpen:**

Putting down the report he’d been reading, Jim sat up straighter in his chair and tilted his head in an unconscious listening pose.  A slow smile spread across his handsome face as he tracked his guide’s progress through the building, easily detecting the beloved heartbeat, and the cheerful greetings Blair was exchanging with many of their colleagues _en route_.  Jim was aware of a feeling of mild relief as muscles he hadn’t even realised were taut relaxed and his senses evened out, his grin broadening in anticipation of touching his guide and lover soon.  Over the past months, Jim and Blair had practiced spending time apart, both realising that, although they were more than happy in each other’s company, a little ‘me time’ didn’t come amiss.  By trial and error they found that they could maintain their respective sensory and empathic stability fairly well for several hours now, which meant that both men could enjoy a range of activities that weren’t necessarily mutually appealing.  For instance, Jim could indulge once again in guilt-free workouts at the gym, knowing that Blair didn’t begrudge him the time in the least; the gym being definitely not one of the smaller man’s favourite venues.  And as his partner had said rather cryptically only the other day on Jim’s return, the older man apologising profusely for being a few minutes late, “It’s fine, Jim.  You should take the opportunity to enjoy yourself.  After all, absence and all that…” and when Jim had quirked a quizzical eyebrow at him, Blair had laughed merrily.  “That old saying, man.  You know, ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’?  It’s true, lover,” and he had kissed Jim lustily to prove it.

On the other hand, it also meant that Blair was now free to return to academia on a part-time basis, although the young man had no intention of letting it interfere with his work alongside Jim, which he insisted was the most important thing in his life.  However, he had done some research and had discovered two part-time Master’s courses at Rainier which he could fit around his work at the PD, since the necessary lectures, seminars and practicals were held in the evenings or occasionally at weekends, and much of the other course material and assignments could be downloaded or submitted on-line.  The subjects were Forensic Anthropology and Criminology, and with Jim’s blessing, Blair had signed up for both.  Yes, it did encroach on their spare time to a certain extent, but Jim couldn’t begrudge his lover the opportunity to immerse himself in study, particularly in the face of Blair’s real enthusiasm and enjoyment.

And as Blair said, with those extra qualifications under his belt, he would be of far more use to Jim and the PD in general, and the extra money he could earn as a consultant wouldn’t come amiss either.

He had, however, reluctantly shelved the possibility of submitting a dissertation for the foreseeable future.  Apart from the sheer time and effort such an undertaking would require, as Blair had explained to Jim, his heart was still set on writing a paper on sentinels and guides from the guides’ perspective, and that simply wasn’t doable at the moment.  Although he could use data from the aboriginal pairs he had studied previously, all his recent and more relevant data was purely subjective, and was therefore unacceptable in an academic, scientific study.  On the other hand, there was nothing to stop him writing general articles about his and Jim’s personal experiences for the benefit of others like them, and with Jim’s blessing, he had already begun to put together a sort of ‘self-help’ manual for potential guides.

And best of all, at least as far as Blair was concerned, Jim still somewhat reticent about it, they were both the subject of an inter-departmental study at Rainier.  

Inspired by the successes of their own home-grown grad student guide, the board of governors at Rainier had given their blessing to finally back a full study of all things guide-related to match existing sentinel studies, with particular focus on what exactly triggered a powerful connection such as that enjoyed by Jim and Blair.  Excited by the fact that at last guides would be afforded the same level of interest and funding as sentinels, Blair was all for cooperating with the study group, be they anthropologists, biologists, sociologists or whatever.  However, when Jim expressed his concerns, he assured his lover that he had no intention of becoming a tame lab rat.  And Jim assured Blair in his turn that he would never allow that to happen.

This morning, Blair had taken a couple of hours’ personal time to run through a few tests at the U, and by the sound of his excited voice as he chatted to Megan in the corridor, Jim surmised that he would be bursting to bend Jim’s ear with all the gory details, and he grinned wryly at the notion.  Not that he wasn’t interested – far from it – but there was something more pressing that he had to discuss with his lover first, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

But first they could both enjoy a few minutes of mutual pleasure as they reconnected, and nothing would be allowed to mar that.

Just then, Blair burst through the doors to the bullpen, turning to walk backwards as he finished his explanation for Megan’s benefit, then turning again to treat his partner to a beaming smile.  As Megan patted his shoulder amicably and moved to her desk, he virtually bounced over to where Jim had risen to greet him.  They hugged warmly for a few minutes while Jim buried his nose in Blair’s hair, automatically seeking the spot behind his guide’s ear where his delicious and grounding scent was strongest.  The other occupants in the room either grinned knowingly or more or less ignored them, so used were they to witnessing such behaviour.  Indeed, there were few people in the PD who gave them a second glance now, sentinel and guide generally accepted for what they were.

And if there were still those who disapproved, they no longer risked making their opinions known, and for good reason.

Finally pushing Blair away a little, but only enough so he could study the young man, hands resting comfortably on Blair’s shoulders, Jim smiled down into the shining and happy eyes.

“And good to see you too, Chief!” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind Blair’s ear.

“I take it you’ve had a satisfying morning at the U?”

“Oh, yeah, man!  I was interviewed by a couple of the guys from Human Biology who’ve been studying that DNA sample I gave them.  And they’ve got a fascinating theory about sentinel and guide genomes.  It’s potentially ground-breaking stuff, Jim.”

His own eyes warm, Jim replied, “And I’m looking forward to hearing all about it, Chief, but there’s something else you need to hear first.  Come on, Simon’s expecting us…” and he gently urged his now openly inquisitive partner towards their boss’ office.

Entering at Banks’ invitation, the two men sat down before Simon’s desk and gratefully accepted a mug of freshly brewed coffee.  Once settled, Simon opened the file on his desk and studied his best team for a moment, his cheerful expression sobering somewhat as he spoke.

“Well, guys, I’ve finally had some news about Mulholland and his cronies, and I wanted you two to hear it from me before it becomes common knowledge.  The Internal Affairs guys have finished with their deliberations as regards the possibility of a more wide-ranging conspiracy within the PD, and have concluded that having dealt with the ringleaders; the threat has been pretty much removed.

“That’s not to say that homophobia and prejudice don’t still exist in the ranks, as you’re both well aware, but I believe they’re correct in their assertion that it’s unlikely to manifest as a physical threat to you in the future.  Sentencing has been passed on all four of your attackers, Blair, although the Commissioner and Chief are trying to keep a lid on the information passed to the media in an attempt to limit damage to the PD’s rep in the public eye.

“Officer Chu escaped a custodial sentence, but has been dishonourably discharged from the force and will have to do several months’ community service.  Not enough in my opinion, but I guess it’ll have to do.

“Milligan and Grogan have both been sentenced to ten years apiece in Starkville, with no parole.  Again, I’d have liked to see a longer stretch, but they’ll have a tough enough time in general population I’m thinking, so it’ll be no picnic for sure.  And of course, like Chu, they can forget about pension rights and references.

“Mulholland’s getting twenty years, no parole.  He’ll be well over sixty by the time he sees the outside again, and as far as I’m concerned, that won’t be too soon.

“So, there you go.  It’s finally over, guys.  You both OK?” and he looked from one to the other, genuine concern in his dark brown eyes.

Blair’s face was sad as he met Simon’s sympathetic gaze.  “Thanks for telling us, sir.  I’m glad it’s over, but I wish it hadn’t come to that.  I know they couldn’t be allowed to get away with an attack like that, but it hurts to be brought face to face with such deep-seated bigotry.  I truly didn’t mean to be any sort of threat to them.”

Throwing a comforting arm around his partner’s shoulders, Jim pulled him into a one-armed hug for a moment as he looked over at his boss and friend.

“Yeah, thanks for the information, Simon.  Like you, I have to say I’d have liked an even tougher sentence, but you’re right.  Dirty cops are guaranteed a hard time in Starkville, and it’s no more than they deserve.  But I have to say I’m glad it’s over with also.  Now perhaps we can really concentrate on doing our jobs.”

“Well, I for one have no concerns on that score, Jim.  But why don’t you both take an early lunch?  Reconnect or whatever you need to do?  Then this afternoon you can have a look at that new case that’s just been kicked up to us from Homicide.  It’ll be just up your street,” and he chuckled at their bemused expressions.

“Go on.  Get out and I’ll see you back here at 1400 hours.”

And both men rose and exited the office with alacrity, but not without a grateful word of thanks to their captain.

Grinning at their departing backs, Simon stuck his customary unlit cigar between his teeth.  His best team deserved a little time to themselves, although he still didn’t need to know the details of their relationship.  All he knew was that they were both good men, and together they were a force to be reckoned with.

And he was proud to call them his friends.

\--------------------------------------

**Shortly after, the loft:**

Jim looked down at the curly head resting on his chest, a gentle smile on his face.  Blair was enjoying a short nap, having been subjected to a very welcome and energetic love-making and bonding session, care of his passionate sentinel.  Both men had been relatively silent on the drive over to the loft, introspective as they dealt with the news about Blair’s attackers in their own way.  But on entering their home, all thoughts were centred on each other, and they had reached out eagerly to join in a fervent embrace, close-pressed as they kissed with urgency and need.  Hurrying up to their bedroom, discarding items of clothing on the way, they had fallen together onto the big bed, no words needed as Jim worshipped and fully imprinted his guide’s beautiful body, leaving no part of it untouched.  And Blair revelled in the glory of his sentinel’s sculpted magnificence, grateful beyond words that Jim belonged to him, and him alone.

And by the time Jim was done, Blair was incoherent with desire anyway, more than ready to be taken, and Jim had no intention of keeping him waiting.  Sliding easily into the silken passage, Jim had leant forward to take his partner’s already kiss-swollen lips in another demanding kiss, and Blair had been eager to reciprocate.  And as they moved together towards their mutual climax, they had again shared the vision of the blue jungle, and their roar of completion mingled with the searingly bright flash of their spirit animals’ glorious merging, and all was perfect once again in their world.

Knowing that he would soon have to waken Blair if they were to grab a snack and get back to work on time, Jim still took a moment longer to dwell on his guide’s words, muttered lazily in the aftermath of their passion.

“I love you, man.  So much.  I don’t know whether our connection was triggered by something spiritual, physical or whatever.  Maybe the guys at Rainier will eventually figure it out.  I just know it’s right, and feels as if it always has been, and always will be.  Together forever.”

And as far as Jim was concerned, he was in full agreement.  Even if whatever they had might be considered to be an infection of sorts - in the best possible way - Jim knew for a fact that he never wanted to be cured of it.

**The End.**


End file.
